


A Manifestation of Pain

by ThomasBogs



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Boba fett is a dad, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din Djarin is a Dad, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Dynamics, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, I just want din djarin to be happy, Lots of Angst, ManDadlorian, One Big Happy Family, Other, Pain, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Trauma, Whump, as domestic as one can be in star wars, author is working through trauma okay, eventually will be a 100k slow burn fanfic (the burn is the pain), no beta we die like men, so much angst this will hurt you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28695525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomasBogs/pseuds/ThomasBogs
Summary: Din Djarin loved his son a lot more than he ever let himself care to admit. When Luke Skywalker took his son to the Jedi Academy, it felt like losing a piece of himself. With the help of a loving cast of found family, will he be able to find his son again? Find himself again?
Relationships: Din Djarin & Boba Fett, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 30
Kudos: 148





	1. My Boy

**Author's Note:**

> So I am personally working through much trauma and thankfully, all my friends decided to watch the Mandalorian (thanks guys) and together, they gave me this brainchild for a 100k extremely angsty, sad, and painful slow burn fanfiction with fluff tastefully sprinkled in, as a treat, wherein the burn is a 3rd degree chemical burn and gets worse over time. If you're reading this, I am both sorry and not sorry at all.

Din Djarin collapsed onto the floor of the  _ Slave I _ \- in one of the more private rooms. His knees felt far too weak to hold up the pain in his heart, the loss of his  _ son  _ weighing heavily like a boulder in his chest. Tears streamed down his cheeks- he was thankful for the helmet hiding his face from the world. He didn’t want to ever show any emotion again. He still felt Grogu’s hand on his cheek, the gentle pat that he gave as they parted. 

His sobs rang out quietly. He simply did not know what to do, where to go from here. It felt like his soul was wandering outside of his body- who was he, without his son? His small, green, alien son. He hadn’t wanted to get so attached to this boy, he had so many times implored his heart to reconsider the love that began to fester for him. He had known it would be painful to lose his son, and yet here he was. Sobbing. 

“Mando?”

A quiet voice from behind the door. 

“Mando, are you alright?”

His throat wouldn’t let him form words. His broken heart beat in place of his voice. A soft  _ hiss _ , and some footsteps. Din assumed he was a pitiful sight, kneeling on the floor wailing quietly.  _ How could his heart ever love again, after a loss like this? How could his heart be truly whole?  _

Boba Fett kneeled down beside him. 

“I wouldn’t be alright either, if I had to go through a loss like that. It’s okay to cry, son.”

A beat of silence, two. 

“Take off your helmet for me.”

_ Moving _ hurt. Din’s entire body ached with his loss. Yet, he complied, pulling off the metal armour and discarding it to the side. Who cared about his creed anymore, anyway? He had already broken it… and he would a thousand times over again for his son. The sudden brightness of the room hurt his eyes. 

“That’s it, my boy,” and with that, Boba pulled him into a hug. Din buried his face in the crook of the older man’s neck, sobs bubbling up violently and loudly. Boba rocked him gently, trying to soothe what was unsoothable. It was like applying pressure to a gash- a sweet thought, but one cannot stop the spray of blood. Din felt like he had been stabbed, the knife twisted and wrenched and reinserted time after time. He honestly thought, he’d rather be dead than deal with this. 

Time and time again, those he loved were wrenched away from him, like the universe was playing a sick joke. First, his parents all those years ago on Aq Ventina. Then, the colony of Mandalorians on Nevarro. Now, his son, the last true love he thought he had left in his life. Where was the fairness, when would the massacre stop? When could he be truly free? He had to do  _ something. _ He couldn’t let his son slip through his fingers, when their story had just only started. 

Instead, Din cried and cried, like a child after a nightmare. He shook, his mortal body too weak to truly maintain the amount of emotion.

“The pain will abide one day, Mando. You know it will. All pain is always lost to the passage of time.”

“No!” A strangled yell, guttural. The sound of a wounded animal. Perhaps this was the true meaning of humanity. Weren’t all humans simply animals, subjected to the rigors of life, an animal waiting to be gutted by the dark and dangerous world? Boba’s own heart hurt to see the mandalorian in such pain. How could he console the inconsolable? How could he comfort this man, a man he’d been coming to see as his own son?

He made no further attempts at words. He just held the broken man close and let him cry. Soon, Din tired himself out, his body physically unable to keep on hurting so badly. His wails quieted. He shook less. 

“There, my boy. You’ll be alright.”

No response. Just sniffling.

“Say, Mando, what is your true name?”

“...my name is Din. Din Djarin.”

“Alright, Din.”

And together they sat, on the floor of the ship, the quiet hum of space surrounding them, Din trying to hide in the imposing warmth of the older man, Boba bringing a hand up to stroke his hair. 

_ They would get through this together.  _


	2. A New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang go to a new planet. That's it. I told you it's slow burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!! Just wanna apologize in advance if I do get any facts incorrect about the Star Wars universe or the Mandalorian- I'm very much handwaving facts and just writing for fun so! Suspend disbelief please and thank you xoxoxoxoxo

“Is he alright?” Concern filled Cara Dune’s voice, echoing the others' expressions. They stood together in the cockpit of the ship. They’d all heard the crying, however quiet the Mandalorian had tried to keep it. In fact, his cries echoed around their heads, around the ship. In space, there was little other sound to distract, to muffle- the darkness that surrounded them, once comforting to Cara, Fennec and Boba with its endless possibilities, felt claustrophobic. 

“No… The man just lost his son... He’s terribly distraught,” replied Boba, rubbing a hand over his face. His head felt heavy, clouded with thought and worry. Truth be told, as the quartet had travelled and fought together, he’d begun feeling a fondness towards Din. He was beginning to feel almost… paternal over the young man. He could only imagine the horrors Din had seen- unequivocally, all Mandalorians saw unthinkable things in their careers.

His heart ached for the man. He’d been put through hell and back. The tears he’d cried were ones that shouldn’t have to be shed. 

“What are we going to do now?” Fennec questioned, as she broke out of her thoughts. Truly, that was the question. Drifting through the galaxy wasn’t an option. With Moff Gideon dead, the Imps were definitely looking for them- and the heartbroken Mandalorian was in no state to fight. 

“I suppose… we find a planet to hunker down on. To rest. Mando needs it. He- you should have seen him.” 

“Where then? Sorgan?” 

“Too many memories for him on Sorgan. With the kid and all… He was almost happy there,” guilt weighed on Cara. She felt foolish for not forcing him to stay there- with Omera, with the kid. She could have prevented his pain. The soldier in her kicked herself, questioned how she could let a friend be so hurt, how she could have failed so badly in protecting him. For all his strength, she knew the Mando felt much more strongly than he ever let show. Even the previous day- she knew it was a fraction of what he really felt.

“How about TerraAsta?”  
  
“TerraAsta?”

“It’s remote. Forested. Small population. I spent a few years there, a long time ago. It was… nice,” Fennec’s gaze wandered out the window, to the stars beyond. TerraAsta- that was probably one of the last times she knew peace in her life. Surely, Mando would enjoy it.

“TerraAsta it is. Cara, will you get us there?”

“I’ll get a course charted.”

With that, the trio took their seats. The Mandalorian slept deeply in the back of the ship. 

* * *

When Din Djarin awoke, he was disoriented. His eyes felt dry, his hair was a mess- but for a blissful second, the events of the previous day didn’t run rampant in his mind. For a blissful second, his son was still there, probably waiting for breakfast. Maybe fiddling with that damn ball again. A soft smile crossed his face- maybe he could land somewhere today with a market, find him a teddy Ewok. 

And then it hit him all over again. His chest ached all over again. He lost his son in a moment, _all over again_. Tears welled in his eyes, a sob built in his chest. He nearly burst out into tears again- instead he sat up off the bunk (which he didn’t remember getting into). He took his helmet and slid it on, thankful to once again hide his face. Din disliked how vulnerable he felt without it. He disliked having shown Boba such a… weak, messy side of himself. 

He _especially_ disliked how _good_ it felt to have the older man there for him, to be able to cry into his shoulder. The last time he’d ever been treated so tenderly was when… when his parents had been alive. _No. I can’t get attached,_ he scolded himself. 

Taking a deep breath, he shook away those thoughts and took in his surroundings. The _Slave I_ was a far more luxurious ship than the _Razor Crest_ ever had been. The sleeping quarters were larger, there was less junk lying around- but it wasn’t home. Maker, how he longed for the past- to go back even just a few months, to when it was just him and Grogu and the Razor Crest, before everything got so… complicated.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

Startled, Din spun around to face the intruder. Boba. Of course. 

“Yes,” _keep your voice even, Djarin._ “Where are we going next?”

“We’re already there actually. TerraAsta. It’s a small planet in the colonies. We figured that you- we- could use a break from all the action, shall we say.”

“I’m fine. I have to-,” he began, anger bubbling up in his voice. He had to get back to his job, forget that any of the past _year_ ever even happened. 

“Din, don’t lie to me. I know the pain you’re in,” Boba retorted with all the sternness of a _father_ , “we’re going to set up tents here- there’s a village a short while away. We’re pooling all our credits together.” 

Din… didn’t fight back. All of a sudden all his anger dissipated. All that was left was a deep exhaustion- he _was_ tired through to his bones. He _did_ need a break.   
  
“Fine,” he seceded. 

* * *

The four warriors took their time in setting up their temporary new home. Fennec, Cara and Boba decidedly tried to ignore the sadness in the air that begged to be acknowledged, tried to fill it with senseless chatter instead- the Mandalorian quietly went about his business. The small clearing they had chosen was ideal. A small lake to their right, entirely shrouded by impossibly tall trees; the air smelled of earth, a freshness they all seldom enjoyed. With four tents organized in a halfmoon, they built up a firepit- according to Fennec the nights _would_ get quite cold. 

As the day turned into night, they gathered around the fire. An uneasy silence fell upon them. They ate in silence. In the distance, they could hear the rumblings of the woods at night, convors and wolves and beasts of all kinds lurking. Their friend’s predicament continued to hang heavy on everyone’s minds- they took turns taking worried glances at Mando. He just stared into the fire. 

Soon enough, Cara and Fennec slipped away into their respective tents, leaving the two men together. The fire crackled warmly, reflecting in the Mandalorian’s armour. 

“I’ve lost before too, Din.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Din-”

“No.”

“Trying to deal with such a loss on your own is like- it’s like trying to take on the entire Imperial army with a butter knife. Please. Din,” Boba gazed imploringly at Mando. He reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

Tears welled in his eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time in two days. He looked away from the fire, away from the older man.   
  
“Son, take off your helmet. For me.”

The Mandalorian said nothing. Everything inside him screamed to stop, to run away- this was wrong. It was against his creed. It was against his very _nature_. _Wouldn’t Boba just leave too, like everyone else did?_ Yet something implored Din to listen. _The child in him begged for his pain to stop._ _Couldn’t this make it stop?_ His hands reached up, and with a fluid motion, the armour was off. He turned slowly towards the older man. Tears slid down his face, his breathing grew heavy. 

“Oh, Din.”

“I didn’t think this would be _so hard_ ,” his voice was barely a whisper. “I know- I _know_ it’s for the best, I know he’s better off, but how could I just _hand away my son_ ? What have I _done_ ? _”_

“You did what was best for your son. You did what any father would- what any _good_ father would. You made sure he’s _safe_.”

“I- _I just want him back._ ”

Boba shifted towards the crying man. For the second time in as many nights, he pulled him close, allowed Din to hide his face in his neck and just _cry_. The pair sat like this, still in the cool night air, until Din began to drift off.

That’s when he heard it.

_Buir._


	3. Buir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a sudden message from a certain someone- the group's plans for rest change drastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! So I'm sorry in advance if I do make any mistakes in terms of anything in the Star Wars universe. I do try my best to research, but I do also love to handwave to just make things work. Also, huge thank you to my friends, who spent some time with me today helping me write this chapter- and giving me ideas for what's gonna happen next! Thank you so much, you know you all are doing just as much as my therapist for me <3 
> 
> Seriously, writing this has lowkey become my new reason to live which,,, a lot better than having no reason to live.

_Buir._

The voice was barely perceptible. It was hardly a voice-more the _feeling_ of a voice, but Din knew it wasn’t coming from within himself. He sat up, away from Boba Fett, who’d drifted off to sleep himself. The sudden intrusion in his mind made him alert. 

The last embers of the fire were fizzling out. The night was so still, so quiet. With the new… _person_ in his head, it seemed like even the sounds of the forest silenced. A cool wind blew through the air, rustling Din’s hair. He stared into the fire pit, as if it would give him answers. Suddenly, he felt wearier than he had ever felt. _I really must be losing it_. The Mandalorian deflated at the thought… It was just his grief stricken mind, wasn’t it?

_Buir._

The impression of the voice- _again_. Din perked up immediately, his entire body going into high alert. Once, once he could excuse- but twice? 

_Grogu?_

_Buir!_

_Yes! Yes, I’m here. I’m right here._

_Captured._

_Captured? Grogu? What do you mean?_

_Run._

_Where are you? Grogu, where are you?! Grogu!_

Adrenaline coursed through the Mandalorian’s veins. Din jumped onto his feet, breathing hard. He received no response. The chirping of bugs, the rustling of leaves, returned- the world came back into focus, as if nothing had ever happened. As if he were alone again, when for a wonderful moment he had his son back. His hand wandered to the Dark Saber, strapped to the side of his hip… in his grief he had forgotten about it. A sense of foreboding fell over him. The events after he let Grogu go were foggy in his mind- he remembered saying goodbye, being ushered by… _someone_ to the _Slave I_ , he remembered collapsing on the floor of the sleeping quarters, the encounter with Boba. But little else.

_Grogu!_ He tried again. No answer. _What happened?!_

Panic swelled in his chest, _his son was in danger_ . He had given up his son to give him a better life, and his son had been captured. Frantically, he grabbed his helmet and slid it on. He knew he shouldn’t have let him go, he knew he should’ve held on a little longer- _he should’ve trusted his gut instinct_. Some sorcerer this Jedi was; Din’s panic gave way to anger. 

“Grogu is in danger!” he yelled, momentarily startled by the sound of his own voice. “We have to go, _now_!”

His three travelling partners roused quickly, Boba springing to his feet while Cara and Fennec burst out of their respective tents.

“What do you mean?” Boba asked, voice stern and to the point.

“How do you know?” added Fennec.

“I- I heard him. He told me he was captured. We have to go save him. We- we have to go.”

'You _heard_ him? Mando… are you sure about that? We all know how upset you’ve been, but isn’t that a little bit… out there?” Fennec questioned.

“No, Fennec, he… he is speaking the truth. I know of the Force, I’ve seen those with it- the powers it bestows upon people. One that is strong with the Force, they _can_ speak to others through it. It is supremely difficult, but it _does_ occur,” countered the older bounty hunter. 

“Hey, if Mando says he heard Grogu, I’ll trust him,” said Cara, “let’s get the little womprat back.”

“Where even _is_ he?”

The four looked at each other, bewilderment coming across three of their faces. Where _had_ the Jedi even taken him? They’d all grown up hearing the stories of the elusive sorcerers, the rumours of their powers- but they were just that, rumours. 

“Likely at the new Jedi Temple,” Boba answered, quite matter-of-factly. “The old one was taken over by the Imperials. The Jedi we saw was Luke Skywalker. He… is a powerful one. After the Galactic Civil War, he wanted to restore the Jedi Order. The temple is on Yavin 4, in the Outer Rim territories.”

“How the _kriff_ do you know?” challenged Cara.

“I fought in the Galactic Civil War. I’ve worked with… many. Over the years, I have… heard things.”

“Well if we know where he is, let’s get a move on, shall we? My _son_ is in _danger_ ,” Din’s modulated voice urged them. It was the first time he referred to the boy as his son so openly.

With that, the quartet hurriedly packed up their weapons and supplies, and took flight. 

* * *

Din’s pacing was getting _incessant_ . He had practically walked a hole in the floor of the _Slave I_ . His mind raced through all the possibilities- that Grogu was hurt, alone, scared… _dead_ . Sleep didn’t come to him as they shuttled through space, his appetite was gone- he wouldn’t be able to rest until his son was back in his arms, safe and sound. _Was it my fault?_ The thought went unspoken in his head- too garish for his mind to let him consider. 

Needless to say, the others worried about him just as incessantly. Even Boba couldn’t talk down the fraught man, coax him into a bowl of broth. If looks could kill Cara and Fennec would have been dead (or they assumed, had the Mandalorian taken off his helmet). They resolved to leave him alone- allow him his space in the sleeping quarters as they piloted the ship. 

The Mandalorian had never felt so determined. All other thoughts fell away; any guilt about breaking his creed, any embarrassment at his own vulnerability was gone- he knew one thing for certain. If _anyone_ had laid a _hand_ on his son, so much as harmed a hair on his head, he would not hesitate to kill them. He needed nothing else, as he paced and paced and paced.

_I will never leave him again. He won’t be left- left standing in the dark all alone._

* * *

_He means more to me than you will ever know._ The line echoed in his head, his resolve unshakeable, as he stepped off the ship. Din took in his surroundings- the planet was… gorgeous. Lush rainforests, a bright blue sky overhead; it wasn’t unlike Sorgan. He could feel a certain sense of clarity falling over him. There was a reason why it had been chosen for the Jedi temple, evidently. _I should remember to thank him for bringing us here,_ he noted to himself. 

The other three warriors stepped out of the spaceship behind him. They marvelled momentarily at the imposing jungle around them, before convening around the Mandalorian. 

“Well, where’s the temple?” posed Cara, quirking an eyebrow. For a jungle, it wasn’t awfully humid- something that put the shock trooper on edge. She sensed something… _unnatural_ . Something was very, _very_ off here. 

“I… am unsure. The Jedis obscured the location of it purposefully, they-”

“There.”

They turned towards the younger bounty hunter, pointing into the thick of the jungle- where the trees convened so thickly light barely got through. He lowered his arm and took a deep breath. _I will find him. I will not leave him. I won’t leave him._

“There- there’s nothing there, Mando.”

“It’s in that direction.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do.”

_I will die for him if that’s what it takes._ The chilling realization filled Din Djarin- he had never loved anyone so much, save maybe his parents. He loved him to the core of his being- he was buir. _I need to save my son_.

With that, he began striding into the woods. 

The others rushed to follow.

_I will find him. I do not care how. I will make it happen._

* * *

_Grogu wondered where his buir was._


	4. The Jedi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The warriors make it through the jungle- but what they find is not the Grogu they're looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter a day keeps the depression at bay, folks.

The jungle proved far more treacherous than it seemed at first glance. The group trudged through the thick brush, slashing away at the vines and plants that seemed to be _trying_ to trip them. With the tree cover so thick, little light got through- cloaking their journey in an ominous darkness. They began to sweat, despite the unnaturally cool air. The Darksaber hung heavy on Din’s hip, practically begging for him to think about it. He stubbornly refused to. 

“We’ve been walking for hours, it’s getting dark… We should set up camp before we run out of light,” Cara broke the silence, as they entered a small clearing. Scrapes and cuts littered her arms, thorny plants having sunken their teeth into her. She was exhausted. They were all exhausted. Everyone except-

“No. We have to keep going. We need to find-”

“You can’t fight if you’re half starved to death or passing out from fatigue, Mando. We’re making camp, _you’re_ eating and sleeping, and that’s that,” said Boba, with a finality that made Din tense. Nobody had spoken to him like that since... _since his own parents._ On Aq Ventina. When he was a child, out far too late running around and exploring. A time that felt practically ancient to Din, so much had happened to him since. 

The eerie memory of his childhood crawled its way into his brain; injected ice into his veins as a certain panic bubbled up. He rarely thought of his childhood. Being taken _care of_ , it was simply… bizarre. It felt _wrong_ . It didn’t fit. He couldn’t let his guard down. _That’s how I lost Grogu,_ the thought crossed his mind in a split second. _And everyone else- Kuiil, the covert, your parents_ , supplied his brain. 

Parts of him cried out to just listen to Boba- he _was_ hungry, tired; his muscles ached. Parts of him cried out to run for the hills.

In Boba’s brain, it was a much different tune. He began to feel frustration, _annoyance_ , with the bullheaded man. So stubborn was he, he would run headfirst into a battle on an empty stomach- didn’t he _care_ about himself, about his _friends_ , the people that worried for him? _Dank farrik_ , that strange paternal feeling swelled in Boba again. Din _wasn’t okay_ , and that just didn’t sit right with him. 

“... _Fine_ ,” he seceded, “but we leave as soon as the sun comes back up.”

“Very well.” 

With that, they built a hasty campout. A fire, a few logs, and a good meal later, Boba and Din found themselves in the same predicament as just the night before; sitting alone, together, around the fire. The stars dotted the small slice of night sky above- drops of milk in a vast galaxy. A certain peace fell over the two men, despite the ever-present anxiety sitting in Din’s chest like a boulder. 

Of course, the older bounty hunter struck up a conversation first. 

“Do you ever miss your parents?”

 _Kriff_ , Din thought to himself, _can’t he ever shut it?_

“No.”

“I find that hard to believe. I know I miss my father- and I’m but a clone.”

 _How_ did Boba have that power? To practically _read_ Din’s thoughts- find whatever sore spot hurt the most and poke them. He scoffed, and turned to face the other Mandalorian, thankful for the emotional shield his helmet gave him, “I don’t like to dwell on things.”

“You cannot shut the door on your memories, Din. You can’t simply forget-”

“Yes I can.”

“Bounty-hunting, missions, all of these things… They’re simply distractions, son-”

“I’m not your son.”

“Quit interrupting me.”

“Quit lecturing me like a child,” Din knew he was being petulant. But _Maker_ , he just… wanted to forget. His subconscious, ever working against him it seemed, thrust another memory into his consciousness; the desolate, lonely, _horrible_ , nights when he first became a foundling. How he’d cried into his pillow. All of a sudden, the feelings burst in him all over again, the scab peeled off: the feeling of being the very last person in the world he could trust. He was really, truly, irrevocably alone. Against his better judgement, tears pricked at his eyes. He blinked them back, steeled himself. _No_. _Not again._ He looked down at the fire. It danced quietly, dying slowly as it spent it’s fuel. 

“Din… I have to admit, I do care for you. I… worry. You remind me of myself, when I was your age; brash, angry, ready to fight just so I wouldn’t have to remember the pain, the _loss_ , I faced. Then I got knocked into the mouth of a hungry _sarlacc_. I nearly died,” he paused, contemplatively, “I don’t want you to experience the same fate. You have people that care- Cara, Fennec, _me._ You don’t have to be so alone… We will shoulder your burdens with you. There will be plenty of time to make foolish choices; to join those who dwell amongst the stars because of them.”

Din felt shamed. “I- I’m sorry.” He wasn’t used to _feeling_ so much- being so vulnerable and careless with those that saw that emotion, either. Did he… actually _like_ the concern Boba felt? Though he refused to acknowledge it, though he buried it deep underneath layers of beskar, hardened muscle, and anger… he _did_ have a void in him- a void his parents left when they died. A void that begged to be filled. 

“You don’t have to apologize. Just please, at least, _take care of yourself._ You give me the urge to send you to bed and force food in your hands- I doubt you’d like that.” 

“ _I do miss my parents,_ ” his voice was barely a whisper. He had never admitted it out loud before. Boba shifted towards Din, until they sat side by side. He gently pried the helmet off the Mandalorian’s head, and allowed the man to rest his head on his shoulder. He seemed to visibly relax at the small gesture. 

“Get some sleep. We have a long way to go tomorrow.”

* * *

The quartet awoke sore and tired; tension filled the air. Foreboding. They could see above, dark clouds swirled. It was going to rain. It was _definitely_ going to rain. Boba said a silent prayer that it wouldn’t be too hard; the terrain was already treacherous, and they didn’t need more of a challenge. They packed up slowly, almost tentatively, as if one wrong motion would set off… something. 

And so they were off. Slashing through brush. Trudging through mud, roots, vines- tall grasses and strange flowers with sickly scents. Rain began pelting them, even through the forest’s canopy. The visibility diminished, the four of them could barely see a foot in front of them. It was disorienting. 

Din was thrown back as lightning struck a few feet in front of him- startled, he let out a strangled cry as he hit the ground. Boba rushed forward to his side, “Mando! Are you alright?”

The Mandalorian brushed him off, desperately trying to wipe some of the water away from his visor. He could barely see anymore. He pushed himself up off the ground, the backside of his shiny armour now plastered in dirt and debris. 

“A lightning storm?! Are you _kidding_ me?” Fennec yelled angrily. Her hair was limp and wet, she was soaked to the bone. She shivered violently, as they all did. The outburst was uncharacteristic of her- but she’d had nearly enough. “We’re going to die in this _fragging_ jungle! This is a death wish!”

“We have to keep going- it’s, the temple is close- I can feel it. _It has to be._ ”

“You’re leading us on a journey to _nowhere!_ You have no idea where this temple is!”

“I- I don’t know how, Fennec, but I _do_ know where it is,” desperation tinged Din’s voice. He hated the rain- he felt like he was being drowned. He wanted to be out just as much as she did, but his frenzied mind implored him to keep going. _It had to be just beyond here_ . _It had to be_. 

She huffed angrily, looked over to Cara. The other woman was similarly miserable- she wore a stony look on her face. “Mando, maybe it’s time to turn back… We tried. Without Grogu, or, well, _anyone_ , being able to tell us more… What are we supposed to do?”   
  
Din looked frantically at Boba, begging him to convince them. The older man wore an unreadable look on his face. 

“We will keep going,” he muttered gravely. 

The Mandalorian, still a little dazed from the lightning strike, took the lead again. The brush seemed to get thicker and thicker; it was getting nearly impossible to pass. His beskar spear was barely enough anymore. 

_The Darksaber._

He could use it. Din had seen it cut through pure metal. He went to his hip, pulled it out from the holster he had it in. The hilt was heavy in his hand- though it was only made of beskar… as if the weight of its story held it down. He turned it on, the power of it taking him aback momentarily. 

The other three warriors watched him, almost in awe. The Mandalorian had been acting like it didn’t _exist_ ever since their encounter with Bo-Katan. He’d been hellbent on ignoring the fact that that ever even _happened_. 

He began cutting away at the brush like it was butter. The path ahead fell open. Determination brought his mind to an edge… He had never felt clearer- as if his thoughts flowed like water. A gentle wind through the mountains. Confidence filled his stride, despite the rain still soaking them. He didn’t know if he could ever feel dry and warm again- but there was only one thought on his mind… _Grogu_.

So focused he was, that he hardly noticed when the brush stopped, nearly falling forward onto his face. Shifting his gaze upwards, Din saw a vast field- with a huge, stone temple in the middle of it. He holstered the Darksaber once more. This place seemed so… peaceful. Untouched by the violence that had fallen upon the galaxy. 

“We’re here!” he called out to his group. “It’s the temple!” 

They stepped out of the jungle, onto the plain. Wordlessly, they all drew their blasters. Years of battle had taught them all not to simply wander into places- no matter how innocent they seemed. Cara still felt put off; _something had gone wrong here._

“Guess I shouldn’t have doubted you, Mando,” muttered Fennec. 

The four warriors made their way to the entrance- a large rectangular opening in the front of the temple. Tentatively, they walked in. Slowly. Carefully. Like their every move was calculated. All of them barely breathed.

Din was surprised at what he saw next. 

A young man, standing in the centre of a large, cavernous room. A shock of blonde hair, piercingly blue eyes locked dead on the Mandalorian and his crew, scruff on his chin and neck. Lightsaber drawn, a brilliant sheath of blue. 

“ _Who dare enter now?_ ”


	5. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The identity of the man is revealed, and a deal is struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooo we love an OC

“Well?” asked the man, ice in his voice. “We’ve had enough _intruders_ here.” 

The team stood their ground silently, none of them particularly wanting to make the first move. The memory of Luke, how he took down the Dark Troopers like trees, was still fresh in their minds. Instead, they kept their blasters fixed on him- ready to fire at any moment. The lightsaber glowed, washing the dim room in a brilliantly blue colour. 

“Put down your saber and maybe we’ll tell you,” retaliated Din.

“Put down your blasters, first.”

“Fine,” the Mandalorian said, lowering the gun onto the stone floor. He gestured for them all to do the same- imploring them. The blasters clattered as they were placed on the floor. _This could be our one chance at getting Grogu back_. Outside, the storm raged on. Water puddled at the entrance they had come through. They could hear the cracks of lightning, the rumble of thunder faintly- the imposing temple sheltering them from the worst of it. The Jedi retracted the lightsaber and holstered it on his hip. 

“Go on, Mandalorian.” 

“We’re looking for my son. This is where we think he was last. _Grogu_ , is his name.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

“I know who you speak of. He isn’t here.”

“Then where is he?”

Swiftly, the man turned around and began walking further into the temple. “Follow me,” his voice was solemn. The group of warriors began to trail behind him, far behind the Jedi. Enough so they could whisper to each other without notice, question the motives of this strange man. 

“ _Do you think we should trust him?_ ” whispered Fennec to the others, “ _he could be leading us to our deaths._ ”

“ _The Jedi_ are _supposed to be… good, aren’t they?_ ” Cara hissed back. “ _That’s what the stories said._ ”

“ _This Jedi… reminds me of a man I knew long ago, as a child_ ,” Boba added in, “ _I believe we can trust him._ ”

Din Djarin didn’t utter a word. 

The blonde man led them down vast halls. Water dripped down through cracks in the ceiling, the walls. Intricate carvings decorated the walls, depicting events from long ago, though abstractly. Din glanced around as he walked through, wondering the meaning of some of the carvings. Mandalorian helmets, conceptual lightsabers, Wookies, Jawas, things Din had never even seen before- they blended to create murals. 

Suddenly, the man stopped. The four peered over his shoulder, finding a bedroom, torn apart. There were a multitude of cots, each with the blankets thrown about, mattresses overturned, baskets underneath hastily ripped from their spots. Random articles of clothing littered the floor. 

"The youngest of the Jedi slept here,” the man’s mind seemed to wander. “We were attacked only a few days ago. Some… _Mandalorian_ ,” he said with venom, eyes narrowing at the thought, “came. Luke, our master, was called away for some important business… I evacuated the younglings as best as I could. They’re on another planet now, safe and sound. Grogu though…”

“Where’s Grogu?”

“...She may have taken him. I do not remember seeing him as they boarded the ship to escape,” the Jedi murmured quietly. “I failed. Luke trusted me with the younglings… and I failed.” He seemed to sadden, then. In a way, Din could almost _sense_ the Jedi’s sadness, the emotion intruding upon his own mind. 

Din’s heart sank. In fact, it seemed to fall into his stomach. He’d been hoping against hope that his son would be safe and sound- that by _captured_ he’d meant something else. That’d he’d arrive at the temple, and find Grogu giggling and playing with the Jedi he’d entrusted his life to. Instead… Instead Din was wet, cold, and childless. Anger bubbled up in his chest, made his heart hammer. Heat rose to his face. His son was still in danger- this _had_ been a waste of time. He could’ve gotten a tracker on his son...

“Who are you?” To his credit, the Mandalorian tried to keep the edge out of his voice. 

“I am Oberon. Oberon Kenobi. Master Luke has been training me for years now- nearly a decade in fact.”

“Who took my son?”

“A Mandalorian.”

"Which?”

Oberon paused, contemplatively. “She wore blue armour… I do not know her name. Her helmet was marked like… like a convor. I- I tried to fight her off, but lightsabers cannot cut through beskar.” He turned around, and looked at Din. Remorse coloured his face, regret. _Shame_. A flavour of emotion the young bounty hunter knew all too well. “I did not mean to endanger your son, Mandalorian. I’m sorry, truly, for causing you such pain. You… lost a limb when you lost him.”

Cara, Fennec, Boba and Din all looked at each other, realization settling in the pits of their stomachs. _Bo-katan._ “ _Dank ferrik_ , she probably took him to draw you in for a fight, Mando,” Cara was the first to speak up, “she wants the Darksaber.” 

“How are we supposed to find him now? He could be anywhere- _she_ could be anywhere,” Fennec interjected.  
Boba looked at Din, straight into his eyes, as if he could see past the helmet. “Oberon, could you find Bo-Katan for us?” He turned to face the Jedi. The same unreadable look as before crossed his face, as if he were deep in thought. 

“I… I don’t know if I’m strong enough-”

“Nonsense- _Kenobi_. You are the son of Obi-Wan Kenobi, are you not?”

"Yes... but I didn’t know him. Luke has told me… My father entrusted him with my life when I was young. He- he made sure no one knew of me. Luke said, he didn’t want to break his creed.”

 _Creed_ . A concept all too familiar to Din… But Din was willing to break any creed for his son. He would show his face, he would tell others his name, he would do _anything_ for Grogu. The thought of never letting anyone know Grogu was his son, never being part _life_ \- it was simply unimaginable. There was no part of him that would hesitate to sacrifice for his son. Din sensed a… great void within the Jedi, not unlike the one he had. 

“And you were likely too powerful for your own good. Obi-Wan was one of the strongest Jedis to ever live. I am sure you could find Bo-Katan for us.”

Din looked from Oberon to Boba. The two were practically staring each other down, Boba’s intense gaze seeming to make the Jedi waver. It was as if Boba could see right through him- as if Oberon were made of glass.

“You look just like Obi-Wan did when he was young…”

Oberon turned away. 

“I will find the Mandalorian for you. But… I will accompany you on your journey. You haven’t been trained with the Darksaber, or the Force-”

“I can’t use the Force.”

Oberon gave him an unreadable look. “It is a deathwish. I will come to protect you. You have a noble quest, Din Djarin.”

“Very well.”

The Jedi reached out his hand to the Mandalorian’s gloved one. They shook hands.

A deal was set. 


	6. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying to their next destination, Din thinks more on his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooo boy fellas is it gay to cry when writing your own weird angsty star wars fanfic?

The cockpit of the _Slave I_ was silent. Cara, Fennec and Boba sat piloting the ship, as Din and the Jedi sat on the floor in the back. Stars rushed by around them. A grave mood had fallen over all of them, each lost in their own thoughts and regrets at the situation at hand. Cara and Fennec both felt bitter at having fought alongside the woman. Boba continued to worry about the Mandalorian, his mental state, and wondered what he could have done to prevent it all from happening in the first place. The Jedi, Oberon, felt grief at the fact one of the younglings had been taken from right under his nose- that the temple sat abandoned. He sat with his knees close to his chest, both hands clutching the hilt of his lightsaber, seemingly deep in thought, eyes looking nowhere. 

Din Djarin felt the worst of all. Guilt sat like a bitter pit in his stomach, almost nauseating with its intensity. Had he not given away his son, his son would be safe. He pointed the harsh finger of blame at himself… He had sat and cried in Boba’s arms, while his son had been kidnapped. He had dared to seek comfort while his son, his _ad’ika_ , was in pain, scared, alone. The bounty hunter stared at the floor of the ship in front of him intently. It was Mandalorian creed to never allow your clan to be endangered. Yet another way in which Din had let his people down, let _himself_ down. 

_Grogu is still alive and well, Djarin. He isn’t hurt. I assure you._

This voice, the _feeling_ of the voice, intruded on his mind. He turned his head to the Jedi beside him. His eyes were closed, as if asleep. 

_What? You worry too loudly._ A smirk crossed Oberon’s face. Mischief seemed to dance in the lines of it- a playfulness despite the fraught situation. He clearly took great pleasure in teasing. _I can sense your emotions through the Force. Your fear… your_ torment _is beginning to torment me_. _You ought to relax, you know. Before you give yourself a heart attack._

A feeling of calm involuntarily fell over Din, like being swaddled in a blanket. He knew immediately, it was the Jedi’s doing. In spite of himself, Din chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. Had someone told him but a few months ago that he would become the father of a small green womprat of a boy, only to lose him- then, he’d find himself being parented by a _Dar’manda_ of a Mandalorian, while working with a Jedi, _all_ while travelling with an assassin and an ex-shock trooper, _and then_ he would accidentally become the _Mandalore_ along the way... he would’ve thought they were nuts. His life couldn’t actually be this crazy. 

The sound of his laugh startled the rest of the party out of their thoughts. They all turned to stare at the usually stoic Mandalorian… none of them had ever heard him laugh before. 

“Are you alright Mando?” Cara asked, furrowing her brow. The soldier gaped at her friend, who turned his head to look back at her. “You… don’t usually laugh.”

Din shrugged, “it’s nothing.” 

The Jedi had returned to staring at nothing, face neutral. 

* * *

Mando couldn’t sleep. As the ship hurtled through space towards their destination, a small planet in Wild Space named Vixnix, his mind kept wandering to the thought of Grogu. His imagination kept supplying awful images of his _ad’ika_ scared, alone. Without any warmth, love or comfort in his life. Somehow that was worse… Din knew from his own life- he never wanted Grogu to feel the solitude that stalked the Mandalorian. 

“You know, your feelings are very _loud._ I don’t know why everyone thinks you’re so stoic… You wear your heart on your sleeve, more than others I’ve encountered,” muttered the Jedi from the cot beside Din’s. 

“How can you tell?”

“The blessing and the curse that is the Force. I’ve always been gifted in… sensing others, more than anything. It can be,” Oberon paused, “difficult.”

He didn’t elaborate. A silence fell over the two men. Din was taken aback at the comments he made- _heart on his sleeve_? The Mandalorian quite literally wore a mask, hiding his true emotions from everyone. Did he truly show his emotions so strongly? 

“Your worries become part of the core of your being. You truly love your son. You are lucky. Those who do not love this strongly are horribly lonely.”

Din said nothing. He got up from the cot. “It’s my turn to pilot.”

“Good luck, Din Djarin.”

His eyes were downcast. There was a finality to his voice that unsettled the Mandalorian. 

* * *

“You know the Jedi.”

“I knew his father, Din.”

“Who is he?”

Boba looked at the Mandalorian, feeling a certain astonishment at the younger man initiating a conversation. No matter how… _business-oriented_ it was. The cockpit was dark, only the control panel in front of the two men and the stars giving them light. They would enter hyperspace soon, for the remainder of their journey to the outskirts of the galaxy. The lights reflected brilliantly in Din’s armour. There was a cold beauty to beskar.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi was a brilliant Jedi. He trained Luke himself, I believe. My father and him had… tensions. But his skills were unquestionable,” Boba was wistful at the memories. “Jedi cannot have children, nor spouses. It is… dangerous for them to form attachments, as I understand it... Oberon bears a striking resemblance to him.” The older man had a serious look on his face. Din wondered what he was remembering. 

“My boy, you are lucky to know so little of our history- to have missed that slice of it.”

Then there was quiet. Din shut his eyes momentarily. He felt like he was drowning in space. The weight of the past seemed to settle on his shoulders. For the first time, he seemed to feel what… _someone else was feeling_. An empathy, a dangerous empathy, that he had never really felt before; hadn’t _allowed_ himself to feel before. Empathy meant caring. Caring meant love. Love was vulnerability; a weak spot, a chink in your armour that anyone could stab through. To love was to bare your soul for the world. Din Djarin did not like weakness- he couldn’t afford it. Not living as a Mandalorian, being both hunter and prey, and definitely not after having lost so much in his life. 

_It is dangerous for them to form attachments_. The line rang in his head. 

Boba’s sadness settled into his own stomach, invaded his veins and seeped through his skin. The feeling was entirely overwhelming, this immense sense of loss. He said nothing, a lump forming in his throat. Boba… Boba _did_ understand how losing Grogu felt, hadn’t he? He understood the feeling of fear that came with loving someone so much, in giving someone your heart. 

He pulled his helmet off, something that was becoming increasingly natural to Din, almost _worryingly_ natural. As if Boba were… _clan._

“You look so… vulnerable without your helmet. Your face is far too _sweet_ , for someone so imposing,” Boba remarked, looking into Din’s eyes. The light washed the two men coldly, yet those brown eyes… they were still warm. The sadness he carried, the fragility were blatant in them. Din’s gaze was fixed onto the older man. It was almost childlike- his gaze revealed all there was to know about the Mandalorian. All of his thoughts and feelings projected so openly; Boba could see why he was so intent on wearing the mask. He had this fear of loss, rejection, almost as if he expected Boba to up and disappear… Din had an _inherent_ belief that he wasn’t good enough. That he wasn’t worthy of love.

A strange look fell upon Boba's face, a look Din didn’t recognize for a moment, until it dawned on him. His own father, years and years ago, had looked at him like that. He remembered it clear as day- waking up from a nightmare and padding over to his parents’ room. His father had never been bothered when Din woke him up, no. His father would lift up the bedcover, beckon him into his bed. He would pull Din close to his chest, press a kiss to his forehead, murmur comforts and allow the boy to cry if he needed. There was no place for fear. The love consumed it. The look on Boba’s face was a look of _love_. 

Din hadn’t noticed his tears until Boba brought a hand up to cup his cheek, and brushed them away with his thumb. He leaned into the touch. Touch was so _rare_ in the Mandalorian’s world. And a life without touch, without the ability to cry on someone’s shoulder or reach out for a hug, never feeling the skin of another hand on his, or a hand run through his hair in comfort… the void in Din seemed to grow exponentially. The broken parts of him screamed, _you don’t know how to love. How can you accept this affection?_

It was funny how emotion acted like a blackhole; slowing the very passage of time under the immensity of it. 

“My boy… _Adi’ka_ ,” murmured Boba, a great fondness building inside of him. “Din, you are a good man. Far better than most. I hope you know that…”

He shook his head, “I’m not.” His voice was gravelly, strained from emotion. 

“You are. There are few that love like you do. Most give up when the going gets tough… Fighting for your love is hard, it’s… taxing… You do it without a second thought. For you, giving up is unthinkable.” 

Boba pulled the man close for an embrace, before they both pulled away. They sat back in their seats, refocusing on the journey. Din cried silently. He was so used to being alone… Someone caring so much about him scared him. Caring so much about others scared him.

Deep inside the ship, in the sleeping quarters, the Jedi wept. _The Mandalorian wears his heart on his sleeve_.

* * *

As they exited hyperspace, the five warriors got a good look at the planet they were going to. There were vast seas of blue, and large expanses of grey. _Mountains_. The planet seemed desolate, barren of any life. 

* * *

_Grogu just wanted his buir. Buir would make it better. Buir always protected him. Buir always made him feel safe._


	7. The Saviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din battles Bo-Katan, but the battle takes an unprecedented turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my last neuron is dead after writing this, i am truly squeezed of my creative juices. action is hard people. i much prefer soul shaking angst. my sincerest apologies for this chapter, it *was* my very first action scene like... ever.

The land was jagged and cold. The rock, the mountains, were unforgiving and imposing; it seemed to threaten the landing party just by its existence. Luckily enough, they were able to land near to their ultimate destination: an abandoned fortress made of grey stone, carved into the mountain itself. The foreboding feeling in Cara remained stubbornly. _Something bad_ was going to happen, but she couldn’t say what. Their world seemed to be tilting, on the verge of falling and shattering. The Jedi Temple, this strange planet in Wild Space… It was all wrong in a strange way. She and Fennec shared a glance, the two women agreeing silently at the nature of the situation. The atmosphere was uneasy. They held their weapons close to them, ready to strike at any moment.

Din strode confidently off the ship. The only weapon he had on him was the Darksaber himself… He hoped against hope that this would be peaceful, or at least that it’d be an easy loss. Again, his mind seemed to clear, all other thoughts and worries falling away as he focused on his mission: saving his _ad’ika._ The rest followed quickly. A cold, sharp wind blew through the air- the Mandalorian shivered under his armour. His underclothes were not nearly warm enough for this planet, his thicker ones having been destroyed in the destruction of the _Razor Crest_. His cape blew behind him. 

“Bo-Katan,” he called out, “we know you have the kid.” 

The Mandalorian shout was nearly lost to the howl of the wind. His hand went to the Darksaber on his hip, “I know you want the Darksaber. I yield. You can have it. Just give me Grogu.”

The Jedi drew his own lightsaber then. His eyes held that same determined edge as they did when they entered the temple; he was ready to fight. The others drew their blasters. The sky was grey, the planet’s sun being obscured by clouds; it was dark like twilight. The absence of any life, any of the _sounds_ of life was deeply unsettling. 

“You can’t just _yield_ the Darksaber, _dar’manda,_ ” Bo-Katan’s spat, her voice filled with venom. “We have to fight for it. You heard as much from Moff Gideon.” She seemed to be disembodied, coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. The vast expanses of stone produced a brilliant echo. The Mandalorian steeled himself, drawing the sword out of its holster and holding it up. 

“I don’t want to fight you. I don’t want to be the _Mand’alor_ . I just want my kid. You can _have_ the Darksaber.”

The former Mand’alor stepped out of the entrance to the fortress, where she’d been lurking in the shadows. In one hand, she carried Grogu by the scruff of his robe. The boy thrashed in her grasp, cried. In the other, she had a blaster pointed directly at his head. Panic swelled in Din as he took in the sight. The smirk on Bo-Katan’s face was completely remorseless; she seemed to relish in the fear she inspired. In the corner of Din’s eye, he could see the Jedi waver for a second… _Grogu must be terrified…_ For a second, Din thought he could feel the terror himself.

_I’m here now, ad’ika._

The Mandalorian hoped Grogu heard that. 

“Let him go. Now. I don’t want to do this with you.”

“See, I knew there was only _one_ way to convince you to actually let me win it honourably.”

“Let him _go_ , Kryze,” he extended the blade of the Darksaber. _He would do anything for his son._ Her smirk widened into a smile. 

“Now we’re talking.”

She flung the boy roughly to the side and used the hand to pull out a _beskad-_ an ancient Mandalorian sword. Din took off running towards Grogu, a decision that gave Bo-Katan an advantage. She took the opportunity as he bent over his son to kick Din’s legs in, sending him falling forward. He narrowly missed squashing his son as he fell. He swiftly rolled onto his back, his beskar armour making a horrible crackle as it scraped against the stone. He glanced over to his son, wanting to just make sure that he’s _alright_ ; Grogu lay passed out on the ground. All resolve to lose melted away. He wanted to make her pay for the pain she caused Grogu. 

The distraction proved useful to Bo-Katan, who slashed at the man, in the gaps between his armour. Din cried out, skin practically _singing_ in pain as he began to bleed. The deep gash was set across his collarbone. Three sets of blasters fired at the woman, but her own beskar made the shots all but ineffective. He forced himself up onto his feet, using the Darksaber to deflect her own sword, slightly dizzy from the sudden blood loss. The metal heated up, glowing red at the contact with the powerful weapon. 

They fought in a flurry of sparks and gunfire- the collision of beskar on saber creating beautiful flashes of energy, beskar reflecting blaster shots away. Bo-Katan landed blows on the man, with beskad and fist. She blocked his attacks beautifully, _as if she’d trained her whole life for this_ . Din hardly had time to register when she even _hit_ him, it all happened so fast. Multiple wounds now bled. 

“Mando! Catch!” Boba flung his beskar spear at him. Din tried to catch it, but Bo-Katan flicked it away at the last second. He caught a glimpse of the desperate look on Boba’s face, as he debated whether or not to get involved directly. The others were unsure of what to do- the Jedi seemed to be gone _entirely_. She jabbed him again with her sword, in the side. 

He grunted as she gave him a swift kick to the stomach, knocking him backwards again. His head smashed harshly against the floor, the metallic ring of his helmet echoing in his ears. His underclothes were sticky with blood. He felt woozy. The world seemed to spin around him, come out of focus. From his back, he raised the Darksaber, intending to strike… instead, she flicked the saber away from him with ease. Din’s whole body protested in pain.

“Alright! Alright, I yield,” he yelled weakly. He raised both hands off the ground. Dark spots invaded his vision. 

“Not good enough, Mando. This is _personal_ now. I told you Moff Gideon was _mine_ ,” Bo-Katan sneered at him, “we should’ve left you to die on Aq Ventina. You’re a pathetic excuse for a Mandalorian.”

“I surrender, Kryze! Just take the damn saber and let me go,” pleaded the bounty hunter, fear for his life beginning to grow. “You beat me!”

“I’ll have beat you when you’re dead.’

He couldn’t die now, not at her hands. He had Grogu- Grogu _needed_ him. 

She raised her sword, aiming for the Mandalorian’s neck. He shut his eyes, and tried to get his body to move… He braced for the impact of the sword against his neck…

“No!” 

A _clash_ rang out as a lightsaber collided with her beskad. Din saw a bewildering blue in front of his eyes. The Jedi was far more skilled than Din with his sword, that much Din saw. He watched him shove her away from the Mandalorian with the thing. Bo-Katan was no match for him as he danced with his lightsaber, able to block every possible move she tried to make.

The world around Din seemed to flicker as he struggled to stay awake. 

Oberon backed Bo-Katan into a corner, holding the lightsaber close to her throat.

“Do you yield?”

No answer.

“I said, do you yield?”

“I will not give up the Darksaber to a _jedi_. You’re not even a Mandalorian by blood. You’ll have to kill me before I give you the Darksaber.”

It lay a ways away, where it had been knocked from Din’s hand. 

“My father was Obi-Wan Kenobi. My mother was Satine Kryze,” he spoke. He watched shock fall upon her face. “I _am_ a Mandalorian by blood. I do not wear the armour- my mother did not either.”

He raised his free hand in the direction of the Darksaber, and called it to himself.  
  
“You are defeated, Bo-Katan. I hold a lightsaber to your neck. Your only way out is death… and I do not want to kill you. The Darksaber is _mine_.”

“You _cheat_ , you _dar’manda_ , you… The fight was not fair, your claim isn’t true-”

“It’s true enough to me,” Boba Fett said as he held out a pair of stun cuffs. Neither of them had even noticed him approaching. “All hail Oberon Kenobi, the new Mand’alor… or whatever it is you’re supposed to say,” he muttered. _Thank the Maker this is over,_ he thought to himself as he bound her wrists together. 

“Let’s go grab Mando and the kid.”

* * *

“Din? Din, my boy, are you alright?” Boba leant over the Mandalorian. He was a gruesome sight, blood having seeped onto the beskar. The wounds were angry shades of red- where his underclothes had ripped, Boba could see deep black bruises forming on tan skin. 

“Fine,” Din managed weakly. “How’s the kid?”

“He’s alright. We have to worry about you now,” the older man took his pulse. It was _awfully_ weak. The younger man was near death. “You stay awake now, Din. Try as hard as you can,” he pressed part of the man’s cape to the wound on his collarbone, “just listen to my voice.”

Din blinked slowly underneath his helmet. He could hardly register the words being spoken to him… he almost felt like he was floating. _Kriff_ , he was in so much pain. He could feel every bruise, every cut, every single part of his body. The Jedi came over hurriedly, having ensured Grogu and their prisoner were safely on the _Slave I._ He stood at the Mandalorian’s head, taking in the sorry sight. 

“Please, Oberon, can you heal him?” there was a desperation to Boba’s voice.

The Jedi nodded gravely, placing his hands on Mando’s shoulders, “I can try… his injuries are extensive.” 

He shut his eyes, deep in concentration. Underneath him, the wounds slowly, _very_ slowly began to close. 

“ _Dad_ …” whimpered Din, “ _dad… it hurts so badly._ ” Tears leaked out of his eyes involuntarily, the pain overwhelming. It felt like his whole body was on _fire_. He was sure it was.

“I know my boy, I know. But I’m here. I’m right here.”

“He’s delirious,” murmured Oberon, “he hit his head very hard… I do not know if I can heal him fully.”

“Yes, you _can_.”

The devotion touched the Jedi. 

Din reached for Boba, tried to hold onto his shoulders. Boba shifted him upwards slightly, resting him on his lap as he sat on his knees. 

“You’re going to be okay, _ad’ika_ . _You’re going to be okay…_ ”


	8. The Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din barely got out alive, can he stay that way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone had a hard therapy session today boys. yikes.

Grogu was restless. Nobody could get him to sleep. He refused any food. Even when Cara tried to distract him with his favourite silver ball, the boy seemed distraught. Not to mention that he’d practically been crying non-stop since they’d boarded the  _ Slave I _ .  _ Especially _ when anyone pulled him away from the door to the sleeping quarters, where the Jedi was tending to Din. The small wails were heartbreaking to the whole crew. 

_ “Dank farrik,  _ I don’t know if I can survive long enough to make it to the outpost with his crying,” lamented Cara, as the child wriggled unhappily in her arms. She carried him back to the cockpit, where the remainder of the team had gathered. “I don’t know if  _ he _ can survive long enough without seeing Mando.”

“It isn’t right to make a child watch their parents be in pain,” Boba answered, “it is far too great of a burden for a child to carry.” He could barely restrain himself from making camp outside the Mandalorian’s door, truth be told. Worry clouded his mind as he thought of the great pain the man must be in. Oberon had insisted on being left alone with him- he’d said it would allow him to focus better. 

“We’ve all seen the kid do his  _ Force _ thing, though… Couldn’t he help heal Mando?” added in Fennec, ever the reasonable one. “It’d be worth a shot… He was on the brink of death.”

“The Jedi doesn’t want Grogu to push himself that hard yet.”

A heavy silence hung over the team. Each was lost in their own thoughts- a feeling they were all getting sick of. They pressed on, Boba and Fennec navigating the ship to the nearest rebel outpost, at Oberon’s suggestion- Luke would meet them there. They could dispose of Bo-Katan, who dozed against the wall, and hopefully ensure Din’s survival. 

There was a soft  _ hiss _ as the doors to the cockpit opened, revealing the aforementioned Jedi. Deep circles marred the underside of his eyes. He seemed pale,  _ weak _ . The man was exhausted. “Boba, a word?”

The older man got up wordlessly, anxiety bubbling in his stomach, and followed the other into the small hallway, shutting the door behind him. The ship’s lights were all dimmed- they were in the middle of a night cycle. 

“Well?”

“He won’t heal fully. I- I’m  _ not strong enough _ . I managed to close all his external wounds… But I believe his internal injuries are still extensive- his head injury too…”

“What would help you?” Boba Fett demanded. Nobody was going to give up on his…  _ Mandalorian _ \- not if Boba had anything to do with it.

“I _can’t_ _heal him_. I don’t have the power. I’m not skilled enou-”

“Yes you are. You  _ must  _ do this. What would help?”

The Jedi shut his eyes wearily, swaying slightly as he stood. His body ached for a break- he didn’t want the Mandalorian to  _ die _ . In fact, he was intrigued by the Mandalorian; he’d never encountered such a dichotomy of a person. Oberon  _ wished _ he could save him. Guilt coiled around his heart as he opened his eyes to look at Boba. The older bounty hunter was desperate, eyes full of sadness and mouth stuck in a slight frown. The Jedi sensed a great fondness radiating from Boba…  _ He had to keep trying. _

“...Bring the child. And you too. Take off his helmet- he would be more relaxed, less  _ resistant _ to the healing. Perhaps with Grogu and I working together… Maybe we could heal the rest,” he rambled.

“Alright.”

* * *

The sleeping quarters were bright. Painfully bright. The Jedi had overridden the night cycle to turn them on, giving him a better view of the Mandalorian. Boba could see all the tears in his clothing, the bruised and bloodied skin beneath it… But all the external wounds were closed.  _ Progress _ . Din lay still as death, drifting in and out of consciousness. Grogu stiffened in Boba’s arms at the sight. 

“Turn the lights off.”

“What?”

“I’ll only take his helmet off if you turn the lights off… It’ll- he would want that.”

“...Fine.”

The lights were shut off in an instant. The only remaining source of illumination was the small window in the wall, showing a brilliant view of the galaxy. Colourful dust, distant stars and planets, asteroids and debris- it was like a painting. For all Boba’s travels, he would never fail to marvel at the beauty of space. He only hoped Din would stay to marvel with him.

Approaching the edge of the cot, he sat Grogu down on it. The boy seemed rather frantic, three-fingered hands immediately going to the cold beskar armour that still clad Din’s body. Undoubtedly, it was the only reason he was still alive. He’d truly taken a beating. Boba took a seat at the head of the bed, and gently pulled the helmet off. An agonized moan escaped Din, a sound that made both other men wince. Din’s eyes were shut- he was half-asleep.

The Jedi could only see the outline of the man’s face in the relative darkness- but he soaked it in nonetheless. The hooked nose, a well-kept moustache accompanied by scruff… He was a  _ handsome _ man. There was an extraordinary kindness to him- Din looked like he wouldn’t hurt a fly, despite being a fierce warrior. Oberon could sense the love he carried, then, the devotion that seemed to be endemic to Din Djarin.  _ He truly would die for his son _ , the thought crossed his mind,  _ or for any of his friends. _

“His hair is bloody,” Boba remarked, as he gently smoothed it back. He held the man’s head in his hands, running his fingers through the matted hair. “The impact must’ve…” he trailed off, a lump forming in his throat. 

Oberon was filled with a new sense of resolve then-  _ he must _ heal the Mandalorian. He  _ must _ preserve the life, the  _ love _ , the goodness that existed within him. Far too often had Oberon seen lives like these snuffed out, people killed without a second thought, leaving heartbreak in their wake. Voices silenced mid-shout. Children who wouldn’t ever have a true chance at happiness. He shifted the beskar chestplate out of the way, and placed his hands over the man’s heart. The baby did the same. 

Shutting his eyes in concentration, he willed every last bit of his strength forward. _Please…_ _Please heal him,_ he pleaded with the Force. Distantly, he could hear Grogu’s own thoughts as he focused as well, simply repeating _buir_ like a mantra. 

Another groan of pain escaped the man, face contorting into a grimace. 

“It  _ hurts, _ ” his voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“I’m right here, my boy. Just focus on my voice,” the older man stroked his forehead, his hair, trying to imbue him with a sense of comfort.

Suddenly, the Jedi found a new strength to tap into… All the love that was in the room. That was on the  _ ship _ . He could feel, so, so clearly, the adoration that Din held for Grogu- repeating his own mantra of  _ I have to stay here for him _ . He could feel the way Boba’s heart, in that moment, beat  _ for _ Din, as if Boba could give away his life force to the man. The strong, quiet, platonic love Cara and Fennec both had for the others- a love they would die for. 

_ They could save their Mandalorian yet. _


	9. The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din's fate is determined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dw guys this is not the end of this fic. There is still a *lot* more to come, we have just gotten ball rolling on the adventures of our dear protagonists.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the internal injuries and the head wound began to crawl closed. Tears leaked involuntary from Din’s eyes. It felt like he was being set alight- like he could feel his cells ripping apart and doubling. Reality hardly seemed like reality, he could barely perceive anything, apart from the sound of his own beating heart. He broke out into a cold sweat at the exertion. He’d never been in more pain. And yet- _I have to stay alive for Grogu_ , the thought was clear as day in his mind. 

“Din, Din- look at me, focus on my voice,” he heard his dad say faintly- felt rough hands brush hair off his forehead. “I’ll tell you a story, my boy. The one my father used to tell me when I was hurt.”

His father brushed the tears from his cheeks. 

It took all the strength in the Mandalorian to open his eyes. The ship around him was fuzzy, the man above him was blurry. Nonetheless, he tried to focus on him- on the pair of eyes that looked down on him with a great affection. It _had_ to be his father- nobody else ever talked to him like that, like he was _worth_ something. Distantly, he heard the Jedi give a strained grunt. It drew Boba’s attention.

If Din looked horrible, so did Oberon. A light sheen of sweat made his skin shine, even in the dark. It dampened his hair. All the colour had drained out of his face- in the dim light from the stars outside, his skin was white as a sheet. He seemed to be in immense pain, like he was pushing his very last neuron to focus. Boba looked over at Grogu, who seemed insanely calm for the situation. He refocused on Din, on stroking his hair rhythmically. 

“Long, long ago, when the first men walked the galaxy,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady. The agony that the younger man triggered fear in Boba- he’d seen few in such pain, for all the pain he’d seen. “There was a young prince. He was a wild thing of a boy, nobody could tame him- or so he thought…”

“He could fly like a bird, roar like a wolf, and swim like the fastest fish in all the universe’s oceans. He had no use for credits, nor friends or family, so he left his life behind; he was truly free, like so many in the universe wish to be, without a care in the world. He only wanted his freedom.

“But the universe was a vast and cruel place. There were many who wanted to destroy the boy’s spirit, not for any other reason than they hated the fact he had it. And it was easy to do too- with no one around he had no protection.

“One day, he met a cruel man. The man had been broken and hurt by so many others before him, that simply talking to him could break and hurt you. The boy, try as he might, couldn’t stand up to the man. The man, with one fell swoop of his _saber_ , cut the boy’s wings off, so he could no longer fly. He stole the boy’s voice, so he could no longer roar. And he marred the boy’s fins, so he could no longer swim. And then he left, remorselessly, not knowing the pain he caused the boy... 

“The boy wept and wept, he cried for _years_ \- but no one heard him because he had no voice. Nobody saw him, because he was alone. His pain surpassed no one’s in that moment, for _he_ was pain. But one day, a big brave knight found him. He was a valiant knight, a man with the kindest heart. He picked up the boy, and took him to the nearby village. He wrapped his wounds. ‘With the right care,’ the knight said, ‘all wounds will heal.’

“And so, the boy did. His wounds mended. He returned to his family, who were overjoyed to find their son. He grew into a good man, and became a good king over his land. He learned that true freedom was not being all on your lonesome, with no reason to be responsible. Rather, he learned true freedom came with being loved so wholly, that you are not ever truly alone.”  
  
For a moment, Boba hesitated. The final line was not part of the story- rather something his father simply said, like an incantation. 

“That is why, my son, you will always heal, always, as long as time is time. I promise you, I will always be there to wrap them.”

“ _Dad_ …” Din’s weak voice came from below. As hard as it had been to follow with his delirious, feverish mind, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so… _comforted_. A memory arose- how his father would spin these tall tales every night for Din, no matter what. It had simply been the way. The story, the feeling, distracted him from his suffering. 

“I’m right here.” 

With that, all the pain suddenly melted away. Din’s body felt normal, if exhausted. No part of him ached. His mind was still foggy, he was still disoriented and confused, but his head didn’t hurt. The sudden relief, the story, the comfort of his father’s presence- he fell into a deep, deep sleep _very_ quickly. In sleep, Boba considered, he looked so… _innocent_. So young. His head lolled gently to the side, his mouth slightly ajar. In the faint light 

There was a small crash as the Jedi collapsed onto the floor from his seat. His breathing, even unconscious, was ragged and harsh. Boba rose sharply, coming to Oberon’s aid. He swiftly picked him up off the floor and deposited him in the cot beside Din’s. Part of the old bounty hunter felt guilty for forcing the Jedi to push himself so far… A far larger part felt so grateful it was nearly overwhelming. 

A soft babble came from behind Boba, and he turned only to find Grogu cuddling up to Din’s chest. It was a sight to see.

Boba smiled softly despite himself… _What am I going to do with all of you?_

* * *

It took another day cycle on the rebel outpost in order for Din to wake into any form of coherence. He blinked his eyes open slowly, allowing his vision to adjust to the dim lighting. He wasn’t wearing his helmet, nor his armour… but for once it wasn’t alarming. He racked his brain for the events of the past few days- but only came up with faint impressions of moments. The agony he had gone through, his... father... being there, telling him a story. That was strange, certainly. He must've been really out of it to hallucinate his father. He looked over to his right. Boba, asleep on a chair, dark circles under his eyes.

There were large windows overlooking a long stretch of galaxy. From the upwards slant of the bed, he had quite a nice view. It was unlike anything Din had ever seen before, and Din had seen a lot of space. Clouds of dust and gas produced brilliant colours, with stars sprinkled in like drops of milk. There were a number of planets scattered about the sky, blinking in their orbits. 

Soft chattering to his left drew his attention. He turned his head to… a floating cradle. It held a _very_ excited Grogu staring right back at him, ears perked up and eyes wide. 

_Buir!_

Feeling that little voice in his head again, Din broke out in the biggest smile he’d ever smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkled, a laugh broke free from his chest. _Joy_ . Din felt pure joy- a nearly intoxicating joy. He reached over and picked his _ad’ika_ up, placing him on his lap. The boy immediately squirmed his way up to his chest, choosing to rest against it. The Mandalorian wrapped his arms around his son, stroking the back of his head. Grogu reached upwards and placed a chubby little hand on his chin, just as he did when they said goodbye. 

_Buir_.

“I know, ad’ika, I’m here,” Din’s voice was rough from the lack of usage. 

“You should’ve seen him while you were hurt,” interjected Boba, from the chair beside the window he’d been dozing on. He grabbed it and pulled it close to the bed. “He was absolutely frantic. He wanted so badly to see you, to _heal_ you.”

“You didn’t let him, did you?” Worry laced Din’s tone. 

“There- there was no other choice,” he blinked and shook the thought from his head, “no, actually. I... insisted. The Jedi was struggling to heal you on his own… Without Grogu’s help you’d be dead.” 

“He’s just a child, he didn’t- he didn’t hurt himself helping, did he?”

“No, he was… fine, strangely. Oberon on the other hand. He still hasn’t awoken. It… took a great deal of his power.” 

In truth, Boba had been racked with guilt since the ordeal. The gratitude gave way to it- he hadn’t intended for Oberon to potentially sacrifice his _life_ for Din. He didn’t want Oberon dead, not before, and especially not after the ordeal. He had saved the Mandalorian’s life, in more ways than one. Din noticed the remorseful look on the older man’s face. 

“I’m… I’m sure he’ll pull through. It’s just exhaustion.”

“I hope,” he gave the younger man a weak smile, bringing up a hand to give Din’s shoulder a squeeze. “Oh and, nobody saw your face. I made sure of it. Your armour is safe as well.”  
  
“Thank you.”

Suddenly, the young Mandalorian shifted over in the bed, making room for Boba. The two ended up sitting much like they had on the _Slave I,_ on TerraAsta, with Din leant up against his side… But this time, he had his son. There was no earth-shattering sadness. He was whole. A soft silence came over them, with Boba’s arm around his shoulders. 

Together, the small new family of three relaxed into a dreamless sleep. 


	10. The Squeeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din gets some good news, and finally, they can all settle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I fixed Season 2 Episode 8 finally. hey, if the trope ain't broke don't fix it.

The Mandalorian was back in his armour, apart from his helmet, in the ‘fresher. He took a moment to look at himself in the mirror, examine his face- something that was unsurprisingly foreign to the oft-masked soldier. He started at his chin, noticing his facial hair was getting scraggly- he needed a shave, _desperately_ . And a haircut. Moving his eyes up, he met his own reflection. He gazed into his own eyes. The Mandalorian really had his father’s eyes- they were the same deep brown, though his father’s had always held a deep kindness. A warmth. Absently, Din wondered if he had the same quality; if others would _ascribe_ that to him, were they able to see his face. He thought of the few who did know what he looked like- Would Boba call him warm? Would Grogu? 

He didn’t know. 

Sighing, he pulled the helmet back on. The relief it usually gave him didn’t come, oddly. He stepped out of the ‘fresher into the room where he’d been on bedrest. For once, it was bright- the beginning of a day cycle on the rebel outpost. Grogu babbled from his cradle, reaching upwards towards the bounty hunter. He happily picked the toddler up, holding him to his chest. 

Today, Din supposed, was the day he had to say goodbye. Again. His mind all but rejected the thought. The two had been all but inseparable as Din recovered. They’d spent hours playing, talking (though of course, Din made most of the conversation), even just sitting together. Mando even gave the boy his coveted silver ball. With his son… Life was good. There was a certain contentment. A part of Din almost wished he were still injured, so he could stretch out the bliss he felt for just a few more days. 

Suddenly, Boba barged into the room. 

“Oberon is awake. _Finally_ ,” he turned on his heel and paused, “follow me.”

The Mandalorian nodded, and the trio set off towards the Jedi’s room.

* * *

Oberon had never felt worse. He’d never _looked_ worse, like he’d gotten blasted by the Death Star itself. The lights above hurt his eyes, so he shut them. He could barely make sense of where he _was_ . Thoughts whirled in his mind, yet he couldn’t capture any of them, mind still groggy with exhaustion. _Kriff_ , what had he gotten himself into? Just… in _life_. He should’ve just stayed on Stewjon, been a farmer. The thought of growing Bantha seemed appealing, for a moment. 

“You crave adventure far too much for that,” Luke Skywalker’s voice seemed disembodied with his eyes closed. “Besides, you love trouble _way_ too much to settle for farming.”

Oberon let out a weak laugh, a smile involuntarily tugging the corners of his mouth up. He opened his eyes a crack. The other Jedi sat beside the bed in a chair, a fond look on his face. Luke always felt a certain pride when he saw his younglings succeed… or sacrifice. The amount of goodness it takes for a person to sacrifice for another is great, Luke knew. For Oberon, it was effortless. 

“You were very valiant in saving the Mandalorian, Oberon. Few would be so selfless.”

“I had to do what was right.”

As if on cue, the door to the medbay opened with a slight _hiss_ . The sound of rather heavy footsteps (it was hard to be graceful in beskar armour) filled the room. Din felt… nervous. What could he say to the Jedi who’d saved his life? Who’d given him another chance to be with his son? How could he _repay_ that?

“Thank you,” he kicked himself for not being more eloquent. _Wow._ The Mandalorian had never been a man of many words- he’d never had to be. The armour, the weapons, the fighting ability all spoke for itself most of the time. The Jedi, however, could sense the gratitude- it practically spilled over, like water in an overfull tub. It flooded the room. It was _bone-deep_. 

Oberon looked up at the man, meeting where his eyes would be under his helmet. The Jedi took one of Din’s gloved hands in his own, the one that wasn’t holding the child.

He gave it a squeeze. 

The Mandalorian squeezed back. 

The others watched the interaction, feeling a strange urge to avert their eyes. The moment seemed too _private_ . Nobody but Grogu (or Boba, but Din was far less keen on admitting that) ever touched the bounty hunter so blatantly- ever _dared_ . Even his friends. It seemed… _wrong_ , as if they walked in on him showering. They didn’t know about Mandalorian customs about touch, but everyone liked to err on the side of caution. They drew their hands back. The moment passed.

“I guess you want Grogu back,” Din turned to face the Jedi Master, though he kept his eyes on his son. His hand felt warm, even through the glove. 

“No.”

He snapped his head up to stare at Luke incredulously.   
  
“What?”

“No. I can’t take your son from you again… I don’t want to. It would be cruel.”

“B-but he needs to be trained.”

“He needs a father more than that. We will figure out a way for him to continue his training with you. You and your landing party can go back to TerraAsta. Rest. I hear it’s quite nice this time of year. We’ll update you on Bo-Katan’s trial, I promise.”

For a second, Din thought he really may faint. Or scream. Or a combination of the two. He… He could _keep his son._ He could _raise_ his son. His heart could actually _remain intact_ . This amount of giddiness was dizzying for the man. He broke out into a huge smile, unseen by everyone else. From the corner of his eye, he could see Oberon grin softly as well, and well… a pang of _something_ hit Din.

Someone was… reacting to his mood. The feeling was strange. Usually, nobody could tell what he was thinking and feeling and he _liked_ it that way. But this… felt _different_ . He thought of his childhood, the last few times he’d ever laughed with someone, cried with someone; had his emotion _perceived_ . There was something so human about it. Something that Din hungered for. _Connection_. Oberon was happy, because Din was. It was simple, yet not simple at all. 

Of course, he wouldn’t ever admit to these thoughts. 

“Let’s gather everyone and chart a course for TerraAsta, I suppose,” Boba ambled, bemused. 

A faint part of Din didn’t want to leave Oberon. 

Though, he wouldn’t admit it.

* * *

So, Din, Boba, Grogu, Cara, and Fennec, all found themselves on TerraAsta again. They set up a little camp, again. This time, there was merriment in the process, a sense of relief. They built a fire, again. They had dinner, again. They laughed together, for the first time. They watched the child dawdle about, little hands reaching out for the fireflies that flickered about. 

Din and Boba were the last two left awake again. The child slept soundly in the younger Mandalorian’s arms. Din’s helmet was off, his head resting on Boba’s shoulder, gazing into the fire. For the first time, he seemed at peace. Boba had an arm around the younger man, keeping him close. For the first time, Boba seemed at peace too. 

But, he knew he should talk to Din at some point. About the state he’d been in when he’d been hurt. About what he said, what he called Boba. About their… relationship. Whatever it seemed to be. 

For the moment, he let it be. He revelled in the feeling of having a family once more.

* * *

Luke sensed a great evil within the boy.


	11. The Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally safe for the time being, Din Djarin shares a moment with his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the big gap between chapters folks. Life, y'know. I'm hoping to get back into writing regularly, though.

Luke sensed a great evil within the boy. The dark haired, serious Ben was far too easy to sway. As he returned to the Temple, along with the Jedi younglings, he worried about the future. Uncertainty surrounded it, as it often does. 

* * *

Din awoke slowly the next morning, the soft light of the sunrise pulling him out of sleep. He blinked his eyes open and took in his surroundings. Grogu was still asleep, resting against his chest. Boba, too, was dozing, head tilted backwards. Their other two travelling partners were still hidden away in their tents. He felt cold. The morning was crisp- if he breathed out he could see his breath, slightly. 

For the first time, the Mandalorian got a good look at where they were. There was a certain peace, an inherent beauty to the land. Dew had gathered on the grass below them, pearling on the grass like jewels. Where the soil peaked through, it was rich and dark; soft and clearly fertile. Birds chattered away in the distance, their cries echoing slightly in the vast expanse of the forest. Trees stood tall and sturdy, bark whorling in all kinds of intricate patterns up the length of them. A mist had gathered around the lake nearby, the water reflecting the brilliant pale blues and pinks of the morning sky. It was as if the entire world was slowly taking a deep breath in- heart beating slowly, time itself taking on a different pace. 

It was serene.

The serenity, admittedly, made the bounty hunter somewhat uneasy. He had experienced so little of this type of tranquility. Really, he didn’t know how to process it. It was hard to lower his fists, after a lifetime spent fighting for his life- his sanity. Grogu stirred gently in his arms, the boy sensing his father was awake. His ears twitched. The kid opened his eyes, and looked up at the man holding him. The familiar face looking down at him was kind- gentle, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Warm. Grogu babbled happily. He was content. Especially after the events of the previous days. 

The father blew out through his mouth, producing a small cloud of air. The child took great delight in this, eyes widening in wonder. It elicited a laugh from Din- a deep chuckle that seemed to emanate from his core. He smiled widely, corners of his eyes crinkling. The kid matched his expression, and reached upwards to the short facial hair on his chin. The interaction was so… so _human_. So simple, yet so profound. In just a quirk of his lips, a vibration of his vocal cords, he could convey love. Affection. Happiness. He could connect with Grogu in a way that words or touch couldn’t even begin to broach. Strange, that the whole breadth of human emotion could be described so succinctly by a look on his face. Stranger yet, it could draw out a reaction, another smile that was practically instinctive. 

Din had led a lonely life- if you gave him enough spotchka, he’d admit as much. There always seemed to be something missing, something carnal, apart from his parents. He’d claim he didn’t know what, even _with_ enough spotchka. But the answer was simple: emotional connection. The Mandalorians, to say the least, were icy people… Emotions were ignored. On the odd occasion they weren’t… Din was a man of few words- he could hardly find the language to convey the intricacies of his feelings. How could he truly describe the bone-deep homesickness he carried everywhere he went? Or the fierce love he felt for his son? What words would carry enough weight?

It was often more a hassle than it was worth. Besides- showing emotion was often dangerous. It was a weak spot. When others knew his emotions, they could use them against him. Just as Bo-Katan had. Just as many others had. 

But… but with his helmet off. He could cry, and Boba would pull him in for a hug, automatically wanting to help, to comfort. He could smile, and that would make Grogu light up in response. His _clan_ would always be there, without him ever having to ask. 

Was the danger of having the mask off worth it?

Din didn’t know. That scared him. 

He used to be able to say no.

* * *

Soon enough, everyone had awoken. Din slipped the helmet back on. The team ate a hearty breakfast of ration bars, in a comfortable silence. The breathtaking surroundings, washed in the light of the rising sun, were enough. The weariness that had settled into their bones seemed to lift slightly. Life was good, if but for a moment. Slowly, they each shared their plans for the day. Fennec would go to the nearby village, find some basic supplies for them, some blankets, some spotchka. Cara and Boba planned to go on a hunt, hopefully being able to find something to eat with actual flavour. Din… Din grabbed Grogu and walked over to the nearby lake. 

He didn’t feel much for being productive, today. None of his crewmates bothered him- silently thanking the Maker that the bounty hunter was taking an actual day off. 

Together, they hung out on the shore. It was a rather small lake, really, but it still had a beach. The sand was silky, wet- rather cold, the temperature seeping through his metal armour. Grogu took great delight in digging in it, gleeful giggles erupting whenever he found a stone. He waddled about, taking in his surroundings- he’d never seen anything like it before. Din took great delight in simply sitting and watching him, leaning up against a large boulder that sat at the edge of the water. He was content.

Soon enough, though, the child sauntered over to him. 

“Ba!” he cried, “ba!”

He was pointing one of his tiny little claws up at the helmet. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the child wanted, to see his face. 

Grogu took great pleasure in seeing his father, in seeing him smile and laugh. Though even with the helmet he could sense the emotions his dad felt, there was a certain satisfaction when he could _see_ them. It filled the boy with joy to make Din laugh. To see his deep brown eyes be filled with so much affection. It made the boy feel safe- he knew his dad would protect him. 

The Mandalorian, unknowing of those feelings, of the true significance of this gesture to his son, lifted the helmet off his head anyway. The boy lit up at the sight of his face. Underneath the cold beskar steel, there was someone who radiated warmth. 

“Ba!”

He scurried off towards the water. The Mandalorian laughed to himself again, shaking his head. He lifted himself off the sand, leaving an imprint where he’d been sitting, and followed the rambunctious child to the verge of the resevoir.

In the lake, all kinds of life swam about. Bright blue krill swirled in swarms, darting in between forests of dense algae and water grass. Tiny fish the colour of mud schooled and swam back and forth. Frogs jumped in and out of the brush encircling the area, tall stalks swaying in the breeze that passed through the land. Din admired the sight, the delicate ecosystem that the lake supported. The water was still. 

Suddenly, the child ran into the shallows without a second thought, splashing about. Ripples erupted from where he moved, scaring away the fauna below. 

“Slow down there, womprat- I don’t want you getting hurt,” his voice was chastising, but impossibly fond. Pulling off a glove, he tested the temperature- and found it freezing. Grog seemed to be completely unaffected. Rather, he seemed to enjoy it. He was so… carefree. He ran about in the shallows, trying to snatch fish and frogs, unearthing seaweed. Din chose to kneel down on the shoreline, allowing himself, for the first time in years, to admire the beauty of the nature around him.

The lily pads. 

They dotted the lake all over, ranging from the size of dinner plates to mere buttons. Some held mesmerizing purple flowers. The smooth, slimy texture of them appealed to the young boy, who grabbed a large one and hoisted himself onto it. The motion unearthed the roots of the plant- and he was afloat. This was something he decidedly _didn’t_ like. The pad floated away from the shore, away from his _buir_ , who was distracted by a rather strange-looking bird that had perched on a nearby tree. 

_Buir!_

The shout in his mind was clear as day, immediately grabbing the man’s attention. Concern washed over him, until he caught sight of the boy. The very panicked boy, standing on a lilypad, wailing, in knee-deep water. In all fairness, the depth probably dwarfed Grogu, but Din broke out in laughter as he waded in. The water seeped in through the gaps of his armour, chilling his skin. Plucking the boy from the plant, he swaddled his ad’ika in his cape and held him close to his chest, trying to soothe his cries.

“There now, it’s not as bad as all that. You’re safe,” murmured the Mandalorian. “ _You’re safe, ad’ika_ ,” he said even quieter.

Standing there, knee deep in cold water, holding Grogu close, Din allowed himself to feel the true extent of the love he held for his son.

He was a _buir_.


	12. The Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff ig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block has hit me hard and I tried a few things for this chapter.
> 
> I promise 13 will be better!

Din handed a small bowl of bone broth to his ad’ika, who happily chirped in response. He smiled gently under his helmet, giving his head a gentle pat. The team watched the interaction fondly. In that moment, they felt content in all the trials they’d gone through to get the boy back. This- this was truly worth the struggle it had been. The love between the two was painfully apparent. The affection with which the Mandalorian treated the little green alien was unparalleled. He reserved his gentlest touches for the boy. Though it was strange to see the broad, armoured man behaving so…  _ softly _ , it seemed entirely natural. Like he was meant to be a father.

As the bounty hunter took a seat by the fire, Boba instinctively reached up to pat him on the back. This too had become natural over their short time on TerraAsta. Fennec and Cara had grown used to seeing the gentle touches between the pair. They seemed to ground Din. He seemed to  _ rely _ on the touches to ground him- something that was surprising, yet not surprising at all. Though the two women didn’t know the full story, they knew Din had been orphaned at a young age. Whatever he had with Boba… It was good for him. 

Yet, the two  _ still _ hadn’t discussed the delirious way in which Din had called Boba  _ dad _ . Boba would swear up and down to himself that he meant to, but frankly… the prospect of that conversation scared him. There was a part of him, a part of him he tried to bury deeply, that worried Din would reject him. As they spent more time together, Boba grew increasingly comfortable with the idea of being Din’s paternal figure- Din’s  _ father _ . The urge to protect him grew stronger by the day, the urge to comfort, to  _ love _ , to make that love known. Boba hungered to be called  _ dad _ again, though he wouldn’t ever make that known. It fulfilled a part of himself he didn’t know he’d had.

Din tilted his helmet upwards slightly to take sips of bone broth. If any of the group stared straight at him, they could catch glimpses of his chin- the neat moustache that covered his upper-lip, and the faint stubble speckling his jawline. He’d spent some quality time with a mirror and his shaving razor in the week they’d been on the planet. 

Together, the quartet happily gulped down the soup. It was rich, flavourful- a nice contrast to the bland ration bars they’d eaten on their first few days there. The conversation ebbed and flowed between them, discussions of Cara and Boba’s hunts, Fennec’s news from the village, Din’s updates on Grogu’s newest obsessions filling the night air. In many ways, the four had grown quite close- almost familial. An inherent trust had grown between all of them. They would die for each other. They all knew it. An acknowledgement was unnecessary.

* * *

Din sighed, staring up at the roof of his tent, as Grogu fussed in his hammock for what felt like the thousandth time that night. It had been  _ hours _ of this- Din waking over and over to his son asking for his attention. He’d gotten maybe twenty minutes of good rest- the bounty hunter could feel the exhaustion seeping into his bones. 

“C’mon kid, why won’t you just sleep?” 

“Ba!”

He sat up, his hair sticking up every which way from his pillow. He drew his knees up, resting his arms on them, bringing his hands up to his face. He tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, futilely. Usually, Grogu was fairly good about sleeping- he’d happily curl up in his sling after a day of running amok in the woods surrounding their camp, even if he did wake early to ask for breakfast. 

“Ba!”

The boy reached up, stretching out his claws towards his buir. Shaking his head, the father sat up in his own small cot and shifted to the end of it, where his boy slept. He pulled Grogu out of the hammock, gathered him up in his arms. The kid immediately relaxed against his chest. The fabric of his sweater was soft. He revelled in the solid, warm mass of the man’s chest, the way it rose and fell with every breath. The armour his buir wore was  _ always _ cold, and it had no give to it. It was sterile. It made his father look large, and imposing, and Grogu knew it was important so he wouldn’t get hurt… But he much preferred his father like this.  _ Alive _ . Organic. With the kind brown eyes that held so much love for him, the perpetually disheveled hair, and the sweet smile that Grogu could draw out of him. The affection, the comfort he could feel radiating from his buir- it made the boy feel right at home, no matter where in the galaxy they were.

“What’s wrong,  _ ad’ika _ , why won’t you sleep?”

“Ba.”

He burrowed in the man’s arms. Din brought a hand up to the back of his son’s head, holding him close. The Mandalorian gently rocked Grogu, hoping to lull him to sleep. Grogu could hear his heartbeat, the slow and steady thump. 

“You know you can’t sleep in the bed with me. I could roll over and squish you.”

Stubbornly, the boy tangled his claws in his sweater. There was no saying no to him- he’d made up his mind. Sighing, Din resigned himself to his fate. He lay back down in his bed, drew up the blankets around them, and allowed the little alien to make himself at home on his chest. He knew he couldn’t sleep like this; the Mandalorian did tend to toss and turn when he wasn’t wearing his armour, and Maker forbid he woke up to the boy flattened.

But it was worth the rest he lost. Grogu felt safe enough to rest around him. That was all the reward he needed. 


	13. The Bounty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When duty calls the Mandalorian back into his old ways- Boba's certainly not pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while! I had a bit of writer's block, but now I've decided on how I went the next few chapters to go and what's going to happen next. So please, stay tuned!
> 
> Also, considering Gina Carano has been fired (good riddance- people like her have no place being in the spotlight), I'm not sure what I'm going to do with Cara's character. For now, she's still in the story, however I may write her out.

Days slowly turned into weeks on TerraAsta. A routine became established, and a sense of familiarity with it. Though Din had spent his whole life essentially on the run, he tentatively welcomed the sudden change of pace. It was… _nice_ , to be able to depend on everyone, on Cara and Fennec and Boba. To be able to raise his kid, to give Grogu the childhood he deserved, if but for a moment. None of them really planned for the future, choosing to be content with living in the present. Their surroundings changed in minute ways everyday- the grass would be a little longer, the shoreline of the lake would change, the forest canopy would thin and thicken in various spots. Din had never stayed in one place long enough to notice these things. 

He and Boba kept growing closer. Now, they’d often sit together after dinner, long after everyone had retired to bed, enjoying the quiet of the night together- or each other’s company, on occasion. Now, Boba would join Din and his son when they went off into the woods together. Now, when Din would wake from a nightmare, something that was happening alarmingly more common, he would seek out the older man for comfort.

These encounters were wordless. Boba would hear the man wrestling with his sheets from his tent. He would slip out of his own bed, exit his own small quarters, and peek into Din’s- he would see the fear painting his sleeping face, and gently, very gently, shake the man awake. Inevitably, the Mandalorian would be frantic; confused. Unspoken demons ran amok in his head, blurring the line between reality and fiction in his tired mind in these moments. Boba would run a calloused hand through his hair, shushing him quietly like a fussy child. Sometimes Din would curl into the man’s side, if he were feeling bold, but often he would simply lie there and focus on the man's touch. Sometimes, Din would fall back asleep, sometimes he wouldn’t- together they’d watch the light change from inky blackness to the many different shades of morn.

They didn’t talk about it.

Boba's fondness for Din grew by the day. It felt _right_. 

The group reached a delicate balance. Life took on a certain melody, comforting and predictable.

That was, until Greef Karga called.

Fennec called Din into the ship that day- a very grey, stormy one. He was met with the man’s hologram. He had a bounty for him, a very dangerous one- another Mandalorian who’d gone rogue for the Imperials and slighted some very important and _very_ wealthy minor warlords. The reward was handsome, the group’s credits were running short… Din agreed without much thought. 

When the group gathered for lunch, in the ship- as the rain poured outside, he revealed the news. He’d be gone no more than a week, he promised. He’d come back with a toy for Grogu, he quipped. Cara and Fennec agreed to babysit the womprat while he was gone, but Boba sat in stunned silence. Anger, frustration, _fear_ flared in his mind. His heart hammered in his chest. An iron fist seemed to clench around his stomach. This bounty— it could kill him. Worse, it could hurt him. The memory of him half-dead after the fight with Bo-Katan… Din had a son, now. Din had… a _family_. Boba felt betrayed in the way only a worried father could. Of course, the younger bounty hunter noticed this sudden shift in mood, and tone entirely too innocent for the gravity of the emotion the older man felt, he asked—

“What’s wrong, Boba?”  
  
Throwing his food down, he all but dragged the man outside. The two women sat left behind, jarred by the suddenness of Boba’s actions. Exchanging a glance, they both knew- Din was in trouble.

Outside, water ran in rivulets down the Mandalorian’s armour. It was oddly entrancing; the beskar steel reflected the dark, angry clouds above, blurring them along the contours of the armour. With a swift move of his hand, he pulled off the helmet, knowing it would be impossible to see through the rain in it. The ground underneath them was mud. They would both be soaked to the bone in a matter of minutes. Thunder rumbled, lightning cracked in the distance. The sun was setting, behind the clouds, what little light remained in the day was being snuffed out as the two men stood, face to face. Involuntarily, Din thought back to the Jedi temple, the storm there, and winced. The sounds of the rain deadened every other sound. Privacy, in plain sight.

“No. You’re not doing this bounty,” jaw set, he uttered the words like a condemnation. 

“What? It’s nothing I haven’t—”

“I said no.”

“You can’t just _tell me_ no,” the air between the men became thick with tension. Din could hardly believe what he was hearing. Nobody would deny a Mandalorian, a _bounty hunter_ , his job. He would think that Boba of all people would understand.

“Yes I can. You aren’t going. It’s too dangerous.” 

“You have no right to do that.”

The scowl on Boba’s face would be burned into Din’s mind for years to come. Imposing in the size the armour gave him, Din glowered at the other man.. His posture grew defensive, shoulders set. The older man’s tone, the way he asserted himself… it didn’t sit right with the Mandalorian. He had never been barred from going anywhere. He had never had to ask in the first place. The restrictive annoyances of living with others… Din grew angry. He grew rageful. His life had become _unnatural_ since he’d moved in with the group. No Mandalorian lived like this- showing their faces to people they weren’t bound to by creed, taking orders from a…

From a _dar’manda._

“What about Grogu? You have a child, Din, you can’t be so reckless with your life. We don’t need credits that—”

It dawned on Din that Grogu was the least of Boba’s concerns in this situation. 

“What is this really about?”  
  
“What do you mean, son? I don’t want you going out and risking your life when you have—”   
  
“I’m not your son,” his tone was imperceptible. His tone was filled with _venom_. He seemed to spit the sentence out, throw it at the older man like a punch. The flames of fury were stoked. All the discomfort he had ever felt around Boba, around taking off his helmet, becoming a traitor to his creed seemed to come to him at that moment. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I’m not your son. You’re _not_ my father. You’re- you’re just a traitor to our kind. I would never want you for a father.”

The expression on Boba’s face turned into one of deep hurt. Words failed him. This sudden rejection felt like a stab to the heart, a twist of the knife. He faltered. The two stared at each other. 

Boba loved Din’s eyes. He loved them. They were the colour of fertile earth, of a rich cup of caf. They were usually filled with so much warmth- so much innocence. With a quick glance, Boba could always tell what the man felt. They were so expressive. 

Now, they were ice cold. His stare was made with hatred. The man felt sickened, wishing that the Mandalorian could hide his emotions so he wouldn't have to see the unbridled distaste he suddenly seemed to have for Boba. 

Of all people, he never expected such loathing from Din. 

His jaw was clenched.His eyebrows were drawn together. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead. Rain ran down his face, droplets clinging to his moustache, the broad curve of his nose. 

The temperature was rapidly falling as night fell as well. Din shivered slightly in his soaked underclothes, the metal of his armour radiating cold. Boba nearly reached out, wanting to warm him. 

The two remained in their standoff, Din’s glare daring the older man to say anything else, the hurt in Boba’s chest blooming to an impossible degree. The sadness infiltrated his ribcage, tying itself into his very bones. It wrapped around his heart. His mind jeered at itself, taunting him with the memory of his own father. Of the family he’d once had. _Fool_ , the thought sprang up involuntarily. Boba… felt like a fool. He turned his gaze downwards, at the puddles gathering on the ground.

Slipping on his helmet, Din stomped past him. Boba wanted to reach out, to _apologize_ and beg him to stay. To _explain_. 

Instead, he said nothing. There was really nothing to say. 

That night, when the bounty hunter was leaving for his job- Boba didn’t even say goodbye. Grogu wandered into his tent eventually, eyes inquisitive at the man he’d come to think of as his grandpa. 

Boba felt flayed. He was heartbroken. 

He wasn’t Din’s father.

Nothing could change that.


	14. The Video

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din goes to get the bounty, has many realizations all in one, and gets a special surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoys; this was hard to write but I think I like the way it turned out.

Din fumed silently in the cockpit of the ship, the argument whirled in his mind, rage sitting stubbornly in his chest. How could Boba, one of the most well known bounty hunters in the entire galaxy, try to _deny_ him a bounty? Din was… Din was one of the fiercest killers in the system. Why would Boba try to take that away? Piloting the ship in silence, his thoughts consumed him. Stubborn as he was, he refused to acknowledge any of the emotions eating away at his insides; the anger making a dinner of his stomach, the aftertaste of venomous words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth… a strange sense of loss gnawed at his heart. 

A thousand different what-ifs flipped through his head. 

The way he’d tried to guilt him into staying with Grogu, the pure _indignation_ with which Boba had challenged him. Why couldn’t he be a man and say what was truly on his mind? Just tell him how he truly felt, instead of trying to _manipulate_ him with his son. _Bo-Katan_ , he thought ruthlessly, _was right._ About himself, about Boba. He had grown soft, weak, pitiful in his silly need for comfort. He’d _sworn a creed_ , he was a grown fucking man- he didn’t need to rely on a misguided old man for any kind of comfort. He didn’t need _anyone_. He had gone through his life alone… the second he tried to include anyone was the second it had started to hurt, really and truly. 

But this weird idea that Boba was Din’s father, of sorts- it hung around his mind like a juvenile delinquent. It simply wouldn’t leave, no matter how many times Din told himself he would collect Grogu and leave when he got back to TerraAsta. No matter how many times Din asserted that he’d really hated the way Boba constantly invaded his personal space. No matter how many times he kicked himself for never having defied the man when he asked him to take off his helmet. The way Boba tried to act like it, tried to _pretend_ like it was true, tried to… what, shield him from the world? As if Din hadn’t already seen its brutality, was ignorant of how the world could hurt. Din’s own father would have never—

On second thought, Din had _no_ _idea_ what his real father would have done. And _oh_. Oh. The notion hit him in the gut, stole the air straight out of his lungs. The sudden realization settled in his stomach like a stone. Din’s father… was a distant memory. 

The two were separated by years of time. An untraversable distance. 

If Din called into the dark, his father would only come in seconds of memories. He… he couldn’t really remember what his voice sounded like, nor what he looked like. He assumed that his _buir_ looked _like_ him. Faintly, he could remember soft, dark hair, curling around the nape of his father’s neck. He could remember the brown eyes, the endearment he looked at Din with… Were they really the same eyes Din had? Or was this his brain’s way of filling in a gap? What was his smile like? Did they smile the same way? All of a sudden, tears pricked his eyes. The helmet grew claustrophobic as his breathing grew laboured— he pulled it off. He desperately wanted to reach back. When had he forgotten his father? 

When had he allowed himself to forget? 

In that moment, Din felt like the same scared little boy he’d been all those years ago. The realization that his father was but an echo in the great hall of history, an inconsequential voice that even he, in his rush to run away from his past, had abandoned, was far too much for the Mandalorian to bear. The hollowness of the feeling brought him to his knees. At some point, he must’ve been loved; loved so much he never had to question whether it was there, never had to doubt the intentions behind it. He knew he had been held so often it never registered as new, nor novel. His parents had chased away nightmares, and bad men, and Imperials. Then they’d been gone. His parents… His father… 

Perhaps they wouldn’t have let him go on this bounty either.

Din couldn’t remember the little details that made up his mother and father. Their laugh, their touch, their cries and hopes and worries, the beautiful webs of minds that trauma and genes and nostalgia had created- tempered together with a lifetime of memories and experiences. The small things about others that people so often took for granted, until they could never have them again. He hungered to see them just one more time, to imprint them into his mind. 

What had Din _done_?

The ship’s comm crackled with the sound of an incoming call. 

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even hear it.

* * *

  
Greef Karga frowned. It was unlike the Mandalorian to outright ignore his messages. He fondled with a small device in his hand, mesmerized, staring at the screen. 

* * *

When the tears ran out, Din grew dismal. 

Floating through space on his own… He remembered how suffocating the ship got. The silence strangled him. He longed to go home. And then he realized he actually had an idea of home now, and that strangled him too. Home was eating dinner together by the fire. Home was sharing a cup of coffee in the morning. Home was Grogu, and the way he marvelled at everything around him. Home was Cara, and Fennec. Home was… Home was Boba. Home was being held when he had a nightmare, and the gentle way he’d press a bowl of broth into his hands, and the way he could make Grogu laugh; it was in the way he could cry in front of Boba, _and_ laugh. It was in how Boba knew the colour of his eyes. It was in how Boba took care of him, like he was something worth preserving.

For a brief moment, he wondered what could have even _led_ the man to being so caring for him. He rifled through the memories of the past month or so, looking for when their relationship had taken on that new dynamic; when the looks had filled with quite that level of endearment. 

That’s when it hit him.

The injury.

For all this time, he’d thought he’d imagined his father telling him a story. He’d barely given it a second thought, actually— the assumption that it’d been some crazed, delirious hallucination, a concoction his brain made to distract himself from the pain had come so naturally to Din… but it’d been Boba, hadn’t it? Din strained to remember more- he must’ve had some response, but the Mandalorian couldn’t remember what. Din leaned back in his chair. He tilted his head back, arms limp at his sides. He was so tired. He’d pushed away the first person who’d loved him, really, truly, loved him in years… over what?

Perhaps, it really _was_ time to call him dad.

* * *

Din grunted as the blaster fire hit him square in the chest. It flung him backwards, into the mud. It was raining. Again. Din was starting to hate the rain, the cold clammy feeling of his clothes sticking to him, the way his armour practically radiated a numbing chill. His body cried out for him to sink into the dirt and give up. From where he lay, freezing cold water seeped underneath the beskar. Maker, he was starting to hate the rain. It never boded well for the bounty hunter. 

Finding the Mandalorian-turned-Imperial had been easy enough. He’d been hiding out on some random, industrial planet in the Core. But Boba had been right- it _was_ dangerous. The other man was clearly a skilled fighter, just as Bo-Katan had been, just as Din himself was. Sighing, he dragged his body back up. He forced himself back into the fight. He could do this. 

_He had to_.

There was no other option. There never was, for the Mandalorian. Whether he recognized it or not, he’d been constantly fighting _for_ someone. Whether to make them proud or to provide for them. As a child it’d been for his parents. Then for the covert. Then, for Grogu… Now for Cara, and Fennec, and Boba too. He had to finish this bounty and come home _alive_ , because there were people that would be _sad_ if he didn’t. 

Steeling himself, this little tidbit of knowledge cemented itself as fact for the chronically under-loved bounty hunter. He drew his blaster, and he kept going. 

* * *

“Wait— before you go, I have something else for you, Mando,” said Greef Karga, as he handed over a pouch of credits to the Mandalorian. Turning away, he began to rifle through a drawer. The bounty hunter tilted his head in curiosity, pocketing the bag. He looked out of place in the cramped, cozy office on Nevarro, so large and imposing in his armour. Bright sunlight filtered in through the windows, a welcome change for the man who’d been repeatedly drowned in rain. It warmed the black _I should find us a nice desert to settle in,_ Din quipped in his head, _I wonder if Grogu likes the sand_. He felt a pang of homesickness for the boy, for his family.

“What is it?”

“Here.”

Karga placed a small device in the palm of his hand, “some _cowboy_ , calling himself the _Marshall_ of all things came by. Said he’d just taken a visit to Aq Ventina, and thought I’d know a guy who’d like to have this.”

Din turned it over in his head, intrigued at the contraption. He’d seen them before, as a kid… on Aq Ventina. They’d become practically archaic at this point, holograms having become the far more popular choice for relaying any kind of _visual_ information. Communication was all about efficiency now, after all, and these things couldn’t exactly be taken and projected everywhere. His fingers found the right button on the side to turn the thing on, and then—

A man, laughing along with a woman. The sound, the sight of their joy at some unseen source was downright infectious. Involuntarily, Din felt his own mouth curve into a smile. He was handsome- tan and fit. He had a strong jawline, a dusting of stubble growing along it, and the kindest, _warmest_ eyes that Din had ever seen. They were the colour of coffee, of fertile soil, of chocolate. His nose had a strong arch to it; his hair curled and fell over his forehead, rather long. The woman beside him was similarly beautiful. Her lips had a distinct pout to them, and there were crow’s feet around her eyes; evidence of a lifetime of smiling.

Between them was a young boy.

The man in the video calmed enough to say something. His voice was deep, a rich timbre that rumbled his chest when he spoke.

“What kind of silly question is that? I wouldn’t trade them for a _billion_ credits, I wouldn’t trade them for the _world_. They’re my family, I love them.”

With that the short video ended.

Din looked up at Greef.

“Thank you.”

He struggled to keep his voice steady. The other man gave him a soft smile.


	15. The Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din comes home, to a place that is vastly different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually feel somewhat proud of this chapter, go me. Always write under emotional durress

Flying back to TerraAsta, Din kept replaying the short video. He memorized the lines of his mother’s and father’s face, their smiles, his voice, his laugh. Seeing himself, so tiny and innocent, in between them- the sheer sweetness of his own face, he looked completely at peace. For the Din in the video, the pain he faced in his life was unimaginable. Losing his parents; Maker, he never expected it. His heart hurt for the boy in the video. The boy in him hurt for his parents. 

Though his ribs and just about every muscle in his body ached and protested at every movement, he pressed on. He had to get home. He wanted to see Boba. He _needed_ to see Boba. He needed to say sorry… he needed to fix things. He needed it more than he needed air to breathe, at this point. Guilt sat like a bitter pit in his stomach, almost nauseous with disgust at how he’d acted. 

Din didn’t even pause to sleep on his journey back home. 

* * *

The camp he got to was vastly different from the one he left. It was silent. Grogu wasn’t running about. Though it was still fairly early in the day, the sun was already setting, the pastel of the sky being painted over with deep blue. It was bitterly cold. There was none of the usual chatter; in fact, it seemed like two of the tents were strangely empty. Empty in a more permanent way. The fire pit sat empty. The ash in it was days old, and damp from rain and dew. All of the warmth seemed to have bled away with the wound Din had left when he departed. The Mandalorian walked into the little campsite hesitantly, hand hovering over his blaster.

“Hello?”

He heard stirring in one of the tents. Walking over, he drew back the flap to the shelter. Inside, he found a sleeping Boba, and a very restless Grogu. The boy immediately perked up at the sight of his father, waddling as fast as his legs could carry him towards the man, arms stretched upwards. Din picked him up, cradling him to his chest immediately. The frozen beskar didn’t seem to bother the youngling in the slightest. _Buir!_ Grogu shouted, with his Force magic (as Din had endearingly begun to call it). He stepped over to the cot, and sat on the edge of it. For a second, the Mandalorian just sat and looked at the unconscious form. Brilliant clouds of air formed when he breathed out. His skin was cold to touch, the flimsy blanket he was under not doing much to keep him warm. Winter seemed to be dawning on the planet. 

Gently, the younger man shook Boba awake. For a fleeting moment, he looked alarm at the disruption, bolting up in the small bed. It melted away to relief, to a certain joy at seeing Din, to anger all over again. Finally, he settled on a deathly neutral expression— something Din wasn’t used to from Boba. The older bounty hunter was ordinarily extremely expressive. Lines had settled on his face around his mouth and eyes, from the constant emotion that ran rampant there. Din had been the recipient of countless of these grins. He’d never been able to quite place the twinkle Boba got in his eye during them; he had the foreboding feeling it was pride. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I- I finished the bounty. Where’s Cara and Fennec?”

“They got a call from the Rebels. Something happened,” he didn’t elaborate. The young Mandalorian nodded solemnly. In his arms, his son stirred and yawned. As if wanting to give them privacy, he hopped from his comfortable resting spot and toddled off to Din’s tent. With his arms free, the man slipped the intruding helmet off and set it on the ground beside his feet. He set his hands in his lap awkwardly. Instinctively, Boba turned his head to look away. There would always be something in seeing his face that felt like an invasion of his privacy. The violation of something sacred. Usually, Boba was quick to snap his attention back. 

This time, he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry…” Din’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Worse, it was laced with desperation. The other man seemed to deflate, all the fight leaving with an exhale. He turned back towards the man. A heavy sadness filled his eyes— a childlike fear of being _left_ . Wordlessly, he begged for permission to wrap his arms around Boba, to, for once, be allowed to cling and need and take. _Let me come home_ , he pleaded in the downwards turn of his mouth, the furrow of his brow, _please_. “I- I’m sorry. Everything, everything I said wasn’t true, it wasn’t right. I’m sorry.”

“After that fight with Bo-Katan, you called me dad.”

“I—”

“You called me dad, and I just _let_ you. And I let that fester. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve known better,” his tone was even, neutral, “tomorrow morning, I’ll be leaving.” It’s like he was stating a fact of the universe, as if he were simply saying apples fell when they were dropped and every star would die one day. He hardly even seemed hurt by this fact, as if the whole relationship, as if Din himself, had never really mattered in the first place. Like something that had affected Din wholeheartedly, had changed the very core of his being into something far more beautiful and vulnerable, had been a simple drop in the cosmic soup of existence. 

Din was taken aback. On some level, he’d been expecting… He’d been expecting to be taken back with open arms, he supposed. This sudden coldness; Din knew he _deserved_ it, but it cut like a knife nonetheless. Tears welled in his eyes. Words escaped him. He could hardly find the air to make noise, much less talk. Tension coursed through his body; hands shook and muscles pulled themselves taut. Then, a small confession.

“But… but I need you.”

A notion of _wrongness_ tugged at Boba’s heart. Though frankly, he’d been waiting for the moment for the man to return so he could throw his words back in his face and _leave_ … It wasn’t meant to go like this. Din wasn’t meant to be so hurt.

“I don’t want to be alone _._ ”

“Y- you have Grogu.”

“But I want you too,” the admission was nearly lost to the sound of overwhelming silence. All the usual sounds of the forest in the evening were absent, the cold forcing the creatures to hide away. It was so quiet. It was so, _so_ damn quiet. It was like a war had been waged, fought, and lost, leaving nothing but a hollow feeling of loss in its wake. The Mandalorian’s hands were clenched harshly in his lap. He stared at him, tears slowly making their way down the curve of his nose. He didn’t really even know what he felt in that moment, but Maker, he wanted to stop feeling it.

And that image, of the young bounty hunter staring at the ground, guileless in his sorrow… Any shred of the older man’s resolve to leave fell away. He shuffled over to his side and tugged the gloves off his hands. Din’s hands were marked up, rough, _dirty_ from whatever fight he’d been in. Gently, he began massaging them with his own calloused fingers. The gesture was enough to shatter the last of Din’s resolve not to cry. Sobs bubbled up quietly, far less dramatic than any of the cries he’d cried before. Boba pulled him against his chest, pressed a kiss to the soft brown curls of hair. Pressed up against him like this, Din could hear the steady thump of the man’s heart. He tangled a hand in the back of his sweater.

“I’m so _sorry_ , I don’t even know _why_ I said those things, it was so _cruel_ —”

“It’s okay.”

Boba pulled away slightly, giving himself a better angle to start taking the bulky armour off the man. Din simply let him, until he was only left in his flight suit. He shivered, and pressed himself closer to Boba. With the coming night, the temperature fell even more. The light had dimmed considerably since they’d begun this encounter. The deep blue twilight painted everything in a shade of despondent darkness. 

So they sat. Slowly, the light faded even more, until all the last colour in the world faded away to shades of black and grey. With time, Din’s sobs had quieted to sniffles, and then to somewhat laboured breaths. 

“I’ll go start a fire and grab Grogu. We ought to stick closer together. It’s going to be a long night.”

“Okay,” exhausted, Din couldn’t find it in him to move and help. As Boba stood to get to work, he fell back onto the cot. He lay there quietly, curled in on himself, listening to the sounds of the other man. A grunt, as he picked up the logs and moved them into the pit. The clatter of wood against wood. The crinkling of leaves being used as kindling. A _fwoosh_ as he ignited the fire. The crackle of the flame. The reds, oranges, yellows flickered, glowed richly, giving light through the translucent fabric of the tent. Grogu babbled happily, oblivious to the weight of the two men’s discussion. Din got lost in it. There were no thoughts left to think in his troubled mind.

Suddenly, Boba reentered. He affixed the baby’s hammock to the roof of their shelter, and placed the boy inside. Happily, the boy curled in on himself and was sound asleep within minutes.

The older man slipped into the bed beside Din and cuddled him to his chest, just like he would when the bounty hunter would have a nightmare. 

Pressing his lips to the crown of his head, he whispered, “you’ll always have a home here.”

Din nodded into the fabric of the man’s sweater. A silence fell over the two, until—

“How did the bounty go?”

The question stirred something in the Mandalorian. In fact, he sat up, just enough to lean over and reach down onto the floor, to the belt that he’d discarded when his armour had been taken off. Digging around, he found the camera he’d been looking for. 

“Greef Karga gave me this.”

Lying back down, he held the small device in front of their faces so they could both see. The video of Din’s parents played. Together, they traveled through time. The small tent was filled with the sound of the past; of a time where Din didn’t know how much the world weighed. Of a time where such weight was unimaginable, and the idea of it being placed on his shoulders was far fetched. Din’s heart twinged. A feeling much more powerful than any of the faint memories he held of his childhood came over again. The pain from an old wound, from the place in him where his parents had been cut off. The light of the screen illuminated their faces.

“Maker, Din, you look just like him.”

Boba had turned to look at Din.

“I do?”

Boba nodded, “you have his eyes.”

“They’re not—”

“They are. They hold the same… the same…” the older man struggled to find the right words for it, “they have the same softness to them.”

Din placed the camera on the floor underneath the bed. He curled against the older man. Boba accepted the touch happily— he wrapped his arms around the man, tucked his head under his chin. The young bounty hunter melted into his touch, accepting the warmth gladly on the bitterly cold night. For a second, just a second, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease. 

“Thank you, _buir_.”


End file.
